Leap of Faith
by SparklingLetters
Summary: Back in the Enchanted Forest after 3x11, Regina separates from the group and strikes an unlikely alliance with a certain outlaw. Grappling with the loss of Henry, Regina faces multiple dangers, such as the threat of the Wicked Witch that hangs over all of FTL, and the no less alarming emotional turmoil Regina experiences around Robin. Will the latter prove a strength or a weakness?
1. Trapped Between the Pages

Regina forced her stiff legs to move, waddling through the fluid black void. The sensation was nothing like a portal; not a swirling vortex of blurred colour swallowing them on one and spitting them out on the other end. She dared not call out to the others, for the mysterious presence threatened to crowd into her mouth and silence her forever.

Had the Dark Curse felt like this? Back then, Regina had awoken amid cool satin and soft cotton sheets, and had never bothered considering how her victims' experience might have differed. Where were they now?

A tentacle wrapped around her ankles with eerie gentleness, not hurting her but an obstruction nonetheless. Struggling feebly, Regina lost her balance and stumbled towards the lazily swirling ground. Instead of hitting the bottom, however, she collided with a mass of arms and hair and ice-cold sweat.

A distant clink of glass resounded with shocking clarity and audacity, magnified by a thundering echo. The ground trembled and began to tilt dangerously. Regina lost their footing and, for one horrible moment, hung upside down in the air. Little by little, the tentacles uncoiled and released their grip on her. There was nothing to halt the fall now. She hurtled through an ocean of thick black substance come to life and down a narrow neck of cracked, ink-washed glass - a giant inkpot spilling its contents onto the once pristine pages of a yellowed, aged book that lied forgotten.

Scorched grass scratched her palms. A sharp rock was cutting painfully into the small of her back. A raven cawed.

Regina didn't need to open her eyes to know where they were. She didn't need Snow White pushing herself up from the ground beside her and breathing, in a voice filled with a bitterness to match Regina's own, the dreadful words Regina had hoped never to hear:

"We're back."

* * *

"We should head for the palace, make our headquarters there. See what state the land's in," Charming maintained.

"It's in disrepair and chaos," Grumpy snorted. "Snow already told us that when she and Emma had come back from the Enchanted Forest, right?"

"So we'll rebuild. Reinstate order," Charming countered, unfazed. "And make plans."

"For what? A new life?" Grumpy glowered. "The previous one had been forced on us, too, but I had warmed up to it, and now someone else comes and casts a curse to take it away? How many times are we supposed to start over?"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group.

Charming raised his hands in defense and a call for quiet. "Maybe we don't need to start over." That gained him their full attention. "Maybe we can fight to get our family back. Emma and Henry."

Regina's chest constricted at the sound of Henry's name.

Charming, true to his notions of leadership, had called a council immediately after the first shock had worn off, which for most of them had been soon enough. They were sitting on logs on a small clearing and with Charming's irritating inspiration and Grumpy's permanent grouchiness the discussion was promising to become a heated and lengthy one.

Regina couldn't care less what either of them had to say. In fact, she felt she wouldn't care if Granny were to try to spit and bake her over the fire as part of the dinner the woman had set to collecting herbs and mushrooms for. Never in her entire life had Regina felt so utterly helpless, defeated, and resigned.

Strangely, Snow wasn't participating in the discussion, either. It would normally be her role to sing ceaseless songs of hope until they either believed it or simply went with it, just as long as that stopped her pestilential ranting. This time, however, Snow kept to herself, silent and staring vacantly into space. Regina turned away at the sight of a tear rolling down Snow's face. Despite the hollow pain clawing at her insides, Regina had no tears to cry.

"...if we work together, we might stand a chance."

"Yeah, yeah," Grumpy growled. "Let's take this up after dinner again."

"How can you think about food with a curse on our hands?" one of the dwarfs objected - Regina couldn't be bothered to distinguish between them.

Grumpy's all too practical approach might normally have caused her to bristle but it was Charming's words that made bile rise in her throat. She couldn't endure another Neverland with these people. Not here, not now, not like this - not with Henry gone forever. Regina had no fight left in her, for she had nothing left to fight for.

"I'm going to Rumplestiltskin's castle," she stated matter-of-factly. She had spoken quietly, without raising her voice in the slightest, yet everyone seemed to have heard. Their puzzled looks made no difference to her - not even the hint of anxiety she fancied to have noticed in a pair of eyes, or two. Charming gave her a disapproving look - she had come to know those only too well - and she braced herself for a tirade about how teamwork was the answer to all the world's problems.

"Then I'm going, too," Belle interjected. Neal livened up for a moment, then seemed to have changed his mind and dropped his eyes.

Regina gave Belle a dark look - she was going to ruin everything. At the sight of Belle's anguished but defiant face, though, Regina felt her own features soften somewhat. Belle had lost someone, too, someone she clearly cared deeply for. Her desire to pay his residence a visit was completely understandable. Nevertheless, Regina would have none of it. She didn't care for company, much less that of someone with the kind of history she and Belle shared.

"No," she stated point-blank, stretching to her full height. The dwarfs, with the exception of Grumpy, who merely frowned, backed away. Granny stiffened and rested a hand on her crossbow. Hook watched the scene with vague interest and Charming stepped forward.

For the first time since arriving, Regina fully realised that, as everyone had changed to their former fairytale persona, so she must have, too. The moment she acknowledged this, she became aware of the tightness of her elaborate hairstyle and the weight of her grand gown, and her skin prickled at the presence of an old acquaintance: the Evil Queen, an ally and enemy both. This time it would be the former. Regina snarled - she had intended for it to be malicious and dangerous, hoping to scare them into letting her go without further ado, but much to her frustration she felt the glare had come short. It had been a while, and apparently the pain was getting the best of her. Yet it would have been precisely that pain to feed the flames of her anger, once. Why didn't she feel the fire now?

Charming made another step forward and prepared to speak. Would she have to resort to uglier means to get her way? Could she muster the energy when she felt so incredibly exhausted?

But it was Belle again who raised her voice before anyone else had the chance to.

"Why his castle of all places?" she asked with her chin turned up. Unlike the dwarfs, she was showing no sign of fear, which earned her a mixture of respect and sympathy from Regina. If Belle's sorrow was anything of the overwhelming nature of Regina's own, Belle would not fear for her life anytime soon.

"Because of the magic, of course," Regina retorted without hesitation. "If there's a way to undo this curse - which unless I am mistaken is your wish, too," she shot Charming a challenging look, "Rumplestiltskin's castle is the place to look." The lie had come easily. Perhaps it wasn't even a full-fledged lie; perhaps she might eventually reach for the odd book in Rumple's extensive library in search of some powerful means of reversing the curse. She doubted it, but it was a possibility all the same. At the very least, it made a decent argument.

Not to Charming, apparently. "Regina, I really don't think splitting u-"

"Let her go," Snow cut in, speaking for the first time since stating the obvious at their arrival. Heads turned in surprise, as if everyone had forgotten about her presence. "Let her go - alone."

Now that was a most surprising turn of events, and Snow certainly a most unexpected ally.

"But, Snow..." Charming muttered with a look of worry etched in his face.

That was understandable - Snow would always be the one to stress the crucial importance of being united. Well, clearly she'd had a change of heart. Perhaps Snow wanted to be rid of Regina. Regina wouldn't blame her if that were the case. There'd been enough strife between the two of them to last a dozen lifetimes, and even more so now that Snow had lost part of her family again, might be not directly to Regina's ill-will this time but still in consequence of her past wrongdoings. Regina dismissed a stab of guilt and strove to shut out the part of her that actually felt hurt by the notion of Snow's dismissal - Regina had, after all, given Snow's daughter the greatest gift she could think of: that of a happy ending. No, it was far more than that - it was Regina's own happy ending she had bestowed on Emma. The thought of Emma and Henry was salt in her wound, so she fought to dismiss it.

Either way, Snow's attitude suited Regina, and what did she care about the rest? What did she care about anything anymore?

Snow rose and stood facing her. "Stay for dinner," she said simply. "Then no one will keep you."

* * *

The reasonable thing would be to get a night's sleep and depart at daybreak. Regina would not linger so long.

In the dead of night, when the air was filled with hoots and snoring - the former she attributed to owls, the latter was clearly Grumpy in chorus with, to Regina's slight amusement, none other than Granny - Regina rose, left the improvised bedroll and the food untouched, and stole away into the trees. As long as she had magic she needed no more.

After just a few dozen steps, however, she heard tentative footsteps hurrying behind her. What now? Her blood boiled and cooled again. She just wanted to get away, nothing more. Why was that so hard to understand? Why would they insist upon her staying with them anyway? They could be a team together, without the hated cause of their misery. Regina didn't turn to confront her shadow but pressed on faster, hoping against hope that perhaps whoever it was would get the hint and leave her be.

Next thing she knew she heard a small cry and a thud as something hit the leaf-strewn forest floor. Regina groaned inwardly. Could Snow be any more clumsy? And whatever made her turn back and wait for Snow to get back on her feet and make her way to Regina across the foliage?

"Regina," Snow gasped urgently, brushing dust off her impossibly impractical white garments.

"What?" she snapped. Apparently Snow's promise to not stand in the way of her departure had meant nothing. How typical.

"It'll only be a minute," Snow assured her. "I just want you to know that..." she hesitated. Was Snow enjoying teasing her? "I wanted to tell you that you're welcome to join us when you're done mourn- I mean, studying Rumple's books."

That was unexpected. Regina was certain her face betrayed that much. Snow smiled sadly.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me. Well, it's true. I don't know what rebuilding will eventually come to mean." Snow's shoulders slumped and she just stared ahead for a moment. "I guess we need to start somewhere," she shrugged, "and I figured you'd better know we're counting on you to be a part of it - when you're ready."

So Snow knew. Regina had been wondering if anyone would see past the rational argument she had made, when for some time she had attempted to keep the real reason a secret even from herself. Snow had guessed the depth of her grief and understood that it bore no company, especially not company that Regina found so hard to juggle even at the best of times. The thought of someone reading her so well threw Regina well outside her comfort zone. Snow showed an irritatingly good insight into her at times even after all these years.

Regina surveyed her closely. Snow hadn't been acting her usual cheerleading self. Regina mulled over Snow's words - everything about them suggested uncertainty and a complete lack of enthusiasm. Something stole its way into Regina's heart that she hadn't felt for Snow for ages. Could Snow feel equally beaten as she did? After all, she had lost a child, too.

"Are you?" Regina asked quietly. "Ready?"

A small smile flickered on Snow's face but did not linger. Her eyes bore into Regina's, and although Regina felt an urge to turn away, something made her hold the gaze. Snow swallowed hard and, at long last, shrugged. A moment of silent understanding passed between them, leaving Regina with a shiver and an unusual trace of comfort. Someone understood her, and for a brief, extraordinary moment, it didn't scare her.

"I don't know, Regina," Snow shook her head listlessly. "But I guess we must try our best. There's always hope, right?"

But was there?


	2. Shadows in the Dark

_Thanks to everyone for reading, favouriting, following, and reviewing so far. It turns out you're highly motivating - here comes the next chapter. Happy reading!_

* * *

Years had erased the finer details of what the attire she had used to favour in this world brought with it. The high-heeled boots were unfit to tread the uneven forest floor. So far she had resisted the urge to hitch up the skirt of her dress even at the cost of being pestered by branches and leaves tugging and tearing at her ceaselessly.

Small feats of magic kept her warm, fed and watered. Occasionally she allowed herself a while's rest: her feet ached badly by now and her muscles burned in protest. But sleep never seemed to come.

Soon the lack of voices intruding upon her ears and thoughts and nerves cradled her into a state of uncharacteristic tranquillity. On the other side of solitude she found the luxury of absolute abandon, the freedom to remain encased within her own mind, to lose herself inside the swirl of emotions without any regard for the outer world. There was no need to pay mind to what kind of image she wanted to project, or the consequences should it fail to convince. She could be herself and not question what that meant.

So she let herself be lost, ceasing to battle for control over her emotions or force her brain into rational thought.

Images rushed through her, filling her entire being: bits of memories and fantasies, shreds of emotions, and the rare flash of present reality. A face, a smile, a tiny fist clenched around her finger; a word, a hug, his forehead under her tear-salted lips. A cloud of purple smoke swallowing a retreating yellow bug. Purple, and inky black, and green trees against blue skies. A well, a diamond, a glowing heart. A chance gone to nought. Red for anger and for pain; blue for the tears that wouldn't come; black for the future that need not.

An owl's hoot. A wolf's howl. A crack of dead wood under her feet as it dissolved to dust.

Shimmering in the moonlight, a swift stream crossed her path, humble but not narrow enough to simply step over. Regina blinked, forcing the fog clouding her judgement, her senses, and her heart to subside. The sensation of water trickling through her fingers made her skin erupt in goosebumps. She splashed some of it over her face. Shivering, she surveyed her surroundings. Far away on the horizon, above the tops of the trees, the gloom revealed it would slowly begin to give way to daybreak. Regina had hoped to have reached her destination by then. She shook her head in an effort to shake off the fatigue and the lingering lethargy - she should never have allowed herself so much lenience. Shunning momentarily the contradicting voice that wept with hopelessness, she gathered all the determination she could muster and searched for a way forward. Her fingers tingled in mockery of the obstacle - magic would eradicate the problem in a heartbeat.

Even as her fist unfurled, a twig broke somewhere behind the bushes, and steps sent the leafy ground rustling. Adrenaline surged through her, reminding her that she was still very much alive. Her eyes darted towards the source of the sound. Regina stood firmly, ready for the clash. She wouldn't seek shelter. Perhaps a fight would make her actually feel alive for a moment - not that it mattered much.

Nothing happened. A soft whisper of leaves told the tale of receding steps. Whoever had come so close to discovering her presence in the forest was now moving away from her again. The anticlimactic moment might have left her bitter and disappointed, even angry once. Now she felt nothing.

After a while, without the slightest spur of curiosity but purely for reasons of practicality, Regina followed. Knowledge was power.

What did she need power for anyway anymore? Perhaps it was mere inertia keeping her moving forward.

Not far along, however, the path the mystery shadow had been following ended in a thick wall of forest shrubbery. Regina's senses tingled. Running her hand over the leaves and branches barring her way, bidding her time, her palm came to rest on a peculiar formation of leaves. Upon closer look, it hardly required a forester to recognise the foliage had been tampered with. Had she accidentally discovered a secret hideout?

As she began to cautiously walk around the wall of green, a low murmur of voices hoarse with sleep, the crackle of a rekindled fire, and a rising bustle of early morning activity seemed to confirm her suspicion. Pressing against a moss-covered rock the sparser foliage allowed for a better view, Regina squinted through the leaves.

Men in garments of varying degrees of shabbiness were hard to make out against the backdrop of the forest scene, which she had to admit was cleverly achieved by the predominant usage of green and brown fabrics. A fat sack lay by the fire, leaning against a wooden chest. A balding monk dragged his corpulent body to a cask of ale and poured a generous tankard for himself and his tall, robustly built crony. He offered a jug to anther one of their fellows - a woman, Regina noted with surprise and an involuntary touch of respect, for in this world it had always been hard to break the bounds set to women - but she refused and toasted with a flask of water instead.

The rising bustle meant an increased danger of being discovered. Undoubtedly she would be capable of handling a confrontation but she had no interest in these people. Rumple's castle, on the other hand, would only be a short way away. Regina retreated in a wide arch and resumed in her former direction.

With renewed permission to roam free, her mind returned to the things she had loved and lost. The hidden camp and its inhabitants receded into oblivion.

* * *

The place was bleak and sinister as ever - it was called the Dark Castle for a reason. Sable stonework seemed to swallow what little light the fading stars lent the retreating night. Regina pushed at the massive double doors in expectation of resistance or at the very least the wail of rusty hinges. Neither came. The door yielded to her touch and she slipped into the sombre hall. Cobwebs had crept across the high ceiling, running from corner to corner in criss-crossing patterns; they adorned the ornate chandeliers and the dust-covered furniture. The library was down that corridor flagged by cracked vases of shrivelled roses. Regina turned her back on the gaping mouth of the corridor - it held no charm for her for the moment.

As she strode towards the grand staircase, her boot became entangled in something. Staggering for a moment, she fought to remain on her feet. The wretched thing was a small camisole of some dark material. Or perhaps not - the lack of light was making everything seem black. Regina picked it up and headed upstairs. The echo of her steps resounded off the walls dully; she strove to step with more care. What did she have to be wary of anyway? An echo? The odd bandit in search of abandoned treasures ? No, the sound simply displeased her.

Doors lined the spacious landing: big and small, wood and stone, arched and square. It made no difference. She pushed a random one open, jumping slightly at its sharp creak and chiding herself for the reaction at once. Once in the room, her steps were muffled by the thick cover of dust eaten into the plush carpet. Crossing the length of the chamber, she struggled with the latch to get the window open and chase out the stuffy, stale air and let some of the fresh morning in.

A golden glow was pushing through the steely, low-hanging clouds on the horizon, sprinkling the faraway treetops with fine yellow specks of light. It was the dawn of a new day.

Something in Regina's chest contorted painfully with an uncalled for intensity that momentarily knocked the air out of her. She felt a lump grow in her throat and tried to swallow it back down again but found herself struggling for breath instead. Her eyes burned viciously - but they remained dry.

A new day was beginning, but for her, everything had already come to an end.

How many times could a person start over? How many times could a person be robbed of everything - _everything_ - they held dear? How many times could a person lose their raison d'etre and still find a way to carry on?

The aged duvet-cover caressed and tickled and scratched her cheek. When had she even gotten to the bed? With a dry sob erupting from the very core of her being, she hugged the pillow unwittingly. There was nothing else left for her to hold on to.

Henry had been her everything. No - he still was, and would always be, her everything. And now he was gone forever.

Regina had tried with all her might to give her all into that last act of magic before the curse had swept them away. She had focused all her thought, all her emotion - most of which had been, and still was, pain - on one thing and one thing only, a thing that was contrary to everything she had been working towards leading to casting the Dark Curse and most of her time in Storybrooke. The happy ending she had ached for so much had had to be given up - she had _chosen_ to give it up, wrapped in tears and sputtered syllables. All the happiness she had ever dreamed for herself and him had been her gift to them: Henry and Emma.

She had no regrets. Her son, her little prince, had had to come first. There was no hole in her heart now. But the agony - oh, the agony was eating away at her, even as her ruthless mind shouted accusations at her ailing heart for being selfish in her grief instead of rejoicing over the bright future Henry could look forward to. A better future that meant Regina stepping aside never to have been a part of his life in the first place. Was she such a terrible disaster to be around that the only way to make her son happy had been to completely erase herself from his heart?

Regina clawed at the sheets with trembling fingers, kicked the duvet in helpless frustration, buried her face in the pillow to stifle a cry. And still her eyes remained dry.

_I have not a tear left to cry_.

Eventually, exhaustion had drained the last of her energy, and left her lying limp between the covers. Unthinking. Unfeeling. Barely alive.

It had been two days and three nights since she had left Snow White and the others, and longer yet since she had last slept. Now sleep finally claimed its due, pressing her eyelids shut with persistent weight. She dreamed of times gone by, of tiny grabby fists waving in the air in pursuit of a dark, loose strand of hair.

* * *

The darkness shifted constantly, ebbing and flowing in the wake of her breathing: in and out, in and out**.** Its smooth, slippery arms entrapped her and uncoiled again, and again, the fluid mass ever winding its way around her. Washed out images of moments past flicked in and out of sight, their texture grained and scratched like an old film. A flutter of her eyelashes or the faintest sigh stirred inky ripples just beneath the surface.

A distant peal of thunder reverberated from the massive walls. What little light there was flickered at the gust of icy wind, then went out. All light - except for a pair of bright red eyes floating beneath the ceiling. Regina gasped and jerked back on the bed, shrinking against the bed post. Dread rose within her like a tidal wave, washing all else out of the way without compromise. The creeping fingers of hopeless misery felt all too familiar... Shaking uncontrollably, she blinked - and the spectre was gone.

All that remained was the all-encompassing darkness only vaguely illuminated by the slim silver sickle in the sky. She must have slept through the day.

Regina ran a hand through her hair. Could it have been what she feared it had been? Had it been no more than a dream? She fought to force her heavy breathing into its normal pattern again. It can't have been real; she would be - gone - if it had been. Why would it flee before accomplishing its purpose? No, she was being foolish. She'd had a nightmare, that was all.

But the loud crash of stone against stone seconds later was definitely real.

Regina kicked the sheets off resolutely. Ghosts did not knock pieces of furniture over - men did. Ghosts could be tricky to foil; men, on the other hand, were a different matter. As she moved to the door, her fingers flexed of their own accord - magic was a primeval instinct to her. The unsuspecting enemy downstairs knew not what they had gotten themselves into.

Perhaps she was being reckless. At least she was something now, beyond lost and hurting.

The stone beneath her boots threatened to betray her presence, so she trod carefully, the ensuing delay testing her patience to the point of madness. When she reached the foot of the stairs, her nostrils flared and the back of her neck tingled. They would have been clue enough, these senses of hers, even without the tell-tale evidence of the vase lying at her feet shattered to countless rugged pieces.

Whoever she was coming up against was in the library - or, if they already knew about her, possibly lying in ambush in a dark nook of the long aisle leading there.

Well, their mistake - she was no easy prey.

She no longer took particular care to be inconspicuous. Although her steps were still measured so as not to make more noise than absolutely necessary, she walked on upright, with her head high and with a swing to her hips - she radiated power and self-confidence, which she had learnt often had a debilitating or at the very least demoralising effect on her adversaries.

Perhaps if she had curbed her pride and adopted a more cautious pace, she would have noticed the shape lurking in a left-hand niche before her. This way it was too late - by the time movement registered from the corner of her eye, a dark shape had already detached from the wall and rushed forth towards her. There was no time to raise a magic-tinged hand. In a hopeless instinct, she ducked, and felt something catch against her hair briefly - and move away on dark, leathery, skeletal wings. She inhaled sharply, cursing herself for allowing panic to rob her off common sense. A bat was certainly no reason to lose her cool.

The library door was ajar, as the sliver of yellow light on the floor betrayed. Someone was comfortable enough to have started a fire. Who could possibly feel so at home here? She felt her anger flare - an unsettling emotion but a welcome one all the same, for it was better than the lethargy overcoming her for the past days. And it was something her magic could feed on. She had sought this place out in hopes of finding a place of recourse, room to mourn without witness and perhaps even figure out where to go next. No one would rob her of this sanctuary now.

A stealthy entrance might be the more reasonable option but to her, it was no option at all; she only knew one way of making an entrance.

The door flew open at the touch of her fingertips, her steps echoed off the stone, and her eyes flashed dangerously - and instantly squinted and blinked, blinded momentarily by the intense blaze from the fireplace.

"Make no move," a calm voice spoke from behind her, "and you shall not be harmed."


	3. Cat and Mouse

_Our Queen and our Outlaw in the same chapter for the first time! I love me some sass, and these two have more than enough potential there, so I tried to play around with it - what do you think?_

* * *

The advantage was on his side, clearly. Had she been more circumspect she might have had the moment of surprise in her favour. Then again, it wasn't the first time pride had gotten in the way of reason. Either way, she was far from done with this insolent intruder.

"I do not take orders from squatters and criminals," she spat, though unmoving as yet, bidding her time while her mind worked furiously on figuring out her next move.

"I wonder what gave me away," the man replied with a hint of sarcasm. "And yet you're an intruder yourself. Fancy that."

Surely she had more right to be in Rumplestiltskin's castle than this stranger — although Rumple would probably not miss a chance to sneer at her about that assumption.

"At least I don't go about breaking other people's possessions," she answered. Would the bandit attack if she turned? There wasn't much she could do without knowing his exact position.

"I'd been staying at this castle for months now, unlike you, milady." Milady? His speech wasn't that of a rogue...but looks could be deceiving. If anything, her senses sharpened even more. "The vase was an accident, I thought I'd heard commotion. Would you happen to know something about that by any chance?"

"Not unless you're scared of bats and thunder," she curled her lips mockingly and risked looking over her shoulder. A dark silhouette stood positioned at the wall with a bow drawn and an arrow pointing at her. From what she could gather from the quick glance, the man was tall and well-built. None of that made much difference when magic was involved.

"Since you seem to have such a strong dislike of intruders," the man put extra stress on the last word, "I wonder what business brings you here, then?"

"None of your business, I'm sure." What was he thinking? Who was he to ask such questions? And how had she not noticed his presence upon arrival?

"Are you _her_?" Suddenly his voice had turned icy and hostile - this was no longer an exchange between two lone wanderers accidentally coming together and eyeing one another with sensible suspicion.

Regina's heart sank - if he hadn't realised who she was until then, now that he did recognise her for the loathed Evil Queen her situation was only going to turn for the worse.

"Where is my son, witch?"

The term stung, as much as she had tried to steel herself against such slurs. Then the actual message registered. "I have no idea what you're talking about...bandit."

"You've been kidnapping children," he retorted with disgust and cold fury. "I want my son back."

"I know nothing about your son," she protested without thought. Either someone was framing her, using the Evil Queen's ill repute, or this bandit was mistaking her for someone else.

Her indignation was overcome by some other emotion, though. Something about the way the man had spoken those last words made her heart go out to him - she knew that desperate drive she'd detected behind them all too well. This was no time for such thought, though. What was wrong with her? Why sympathise with this criminal while being held at arrow-point by the very same person?

"And I'm certainly not interested in any other children either," Regina said icily. Only one child...only Henry. But he was gone. Desperately, she strove to shake off the thought - she couldn't afford to be weak now. "But I do have business here, and I do not wish to be disturbed."

"So it seems we have a problem," the bandit said in a low, silky voice. "I have business here as well, do not wish to be disturbed, and since I was here first, I'm sure you will understand when I ask you to leave."

"I'm afraid you'll find me...unwilling to do that." The man was insufferably cheeky. He matched her retort for retort, and so far he'd had the upper hand by sheer physical advantage. It was maddening, and she would not stand for it much longer.

"Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to apply harsher measures."

"Be my guest," she challenged and whipped around to face him.

The string of the bow tightened, and the arrowhead quailed. Regina was ready, the previous exchange having fired an irritation she would utilise: her fist unfurled and revealed a growing ball of fire sitting on her palm. For a brief moment, their eyes locked. Despite the shock called forth at the sight of flames sprouting from her hand, he was focused and serene even as his fingers released the arrow.

It sped towards her in a straight but, she thought with glee, miscalculated line - it would hit her shoulder rather than heart if she let it. That would never happen, of course. Her arm moved automatically and with perfect ease; the arrow froze mid-air. The archer, too, froze in place for a split second, staring in surprise. Regina snarled and waved the arrow away, then immediately moved to attack - the man needed to be thwarted. Strangely, she realised she felt little anger at this point. The wretched man had picked the wrong place at the wrong time, showed a deal of cheek, but she felt more annoyance than anger.

Building up its power briefly, Regina aimed and sent a spell at him. The moment, however, had given him time to recover. Just as the rush of purple was unleashed, he ducked and rolled into cover behind a bookshelf. The magical collision sent splinters of wood and yellowed pages flying, and covered the room in a cloud of dust.

The dust settled. Nothing moved.

Was he dead? The spell would only have knocked him out but the fool had decided to seek cover, possibly meeting his end in consequence. Even so, the little magic she had performed seemed to have required quite a bit of her strength: she felt dizzy and somewhat weak in the knees; she would do better to rest soon. The question was, would the thief be at eternal rest?

A cough soon answered that for her. The pile of rubble moved, sending up another cloud of dust.

"Who are you?" came his muffled voice from behind.

Regina bristled.

"I am the Queen."

The readiness of her response caught her unawares. It had been a while since she really thought about herself as the Queen. Did she now? Was it the land? The curse? The outfit? It didn't matter anyway. The Queen was probably the handiest weapon to handle this situation. Any scruples about reconnecting with this part of her were disconcerting at best. She was the Queen, after all, wasn't she?

There was a moment's silence before she heard him again.

"The _Evil_ Queen? Impossible. She hasn't been seen in this realm since the Dark Curse."

Oh yes, the warm welcome she had been expecting - or would have expected, if she had had given it a thought at all.

"And yet, here I am now," she retorted, and was horrified to hear a note of misery in her own voice. If he had been attentive, if he noticed her waver, it would give him a weapon. She needed to get a grip. She needed the Queen now.

"'Your Majesty' is what you're looking for," she enforced in hopes this would help her regain her footing.

There was a long pause. "Not until now, it wasn't... But perhaps now it is."

"What is that supposed to mean?" If he thought he could catch her off guard by playing tricks on her he was gravely mistaken. "I have no time to play games."

"Neither do I. I believe we could be of use to one another." At that, he emerged from the rubble, slowly and with his hands down and palms towards her in a gesture of, if not surrender, then at least ceasefire. Eyeing him with suspicion, Regina took a while to process his words, and before she could, more came: "As much as it shocks me, I am proposing a mutually beneficial...arrangement."

"What use could I possibly have for a thief?" As much contempt as she could muster was packed into that insult. "I didn't come here to steal."

"Perhaps if you told me what you did come here to do, it would be easier to reach an agreement." He paused for a moment, giving her a questioning yet at the same time amused look.

He couldn't seriously be expecting her to divulge any information at his ridiculous, completely out-of-bounds interrogation.

His mouth stretched into a grin. "No? Never mind. I'm offering you information, an advantage, a form of retribution against the Witch."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, thief. Speak clearly or stop wasting my time." She really could think of nothing anyone, much less someone like him, could possibly offer to her. This was a waste of time, and her patience - never a strength of hers anyway - was quickly running out.

"The name's Robin Hood, incidentally - I suggest considering using that to reduce the repetitiveness of 'thief'," he noted dryly. "There's a Wicked Witch from a different realm wreaking havoc in the Enchanted Forest."

That would be the witch he had mistaken her for earlier, she figured. Her mind rewound to the accusation he had so bitterly, savagely uttered. "And this witch has - kidnapped your son?" She knew all too well how that felt - the anguish, the anger, and the determination they fuelled. Regina tried to push the memories out of her mind, to lock the emotions away - she couldn't deal with this right now.

"Yes," he nodded simply. "I'm tracking her down and getting him back, with or without your help." His eyes darkened at those words, and Regina shivered -everything about the man suggested he would do whatever it took to accomplish his mission. Again, she could empathise with that; and again, she rebuffed the idea - she wasn't there to empathise with strangers, much less criminals of dubious character. "Since you're well-versed in magic, though," he continued, and she forced herself to return to the present moment, "your help would be of advantage, of course."

"And where's my gain in this?" she inquired brusquely. Her time was too precious to dawdle on the likes of this...this bandit. Why exactly was that? What else did she have to do? To hell with the emotional vortex within her!

"The Witch has taken up residence in your palace." The heavy emphasis on his words and his intense look both clearly showed he attributed much importance to this piece of information, and believed it held the key to their alliance.

"Oh, is that so?" An angry shadow crossed her features - an instinct, a jab of pride the insufferable man seemed to be counting on so much. Well, he would be disappointed. The Queen would have taken this as a personal offense, an impeachment on her power - she would aim for total destruction of the offender. Yet now Regina found it didn't really matter to her. Her frown cleared. "Well, she can have it if she is so inclined." Her words had quite the effect on him, and she couldn't suppress a grin. "It's just a palace, thief."

Whatever reaction he had expected, clearly it hadn't been this. "She is claiming reign over the land," he probed again, surveying her with his head tilted slightly.

Regina scoffed. "I have no interest in ruling this land or any other. That will be for Snow White and her husband to sort out."

"Snow White?" he frowned.

Was that a sign of recognition? It could have just been surprise. It didn't matter, after all.

Enough was enough.

"Look, bandit, let me suggest an arrangement that might suit us both," Regina strolled to where his bow lay buried under tattered old tomes, and leaned to pick it up. The thief watched her warily but his stance suggested confidence. "Because I have no time to spare for more argument, and because, in all honesty, I couldn't care less about what happens to any of the treasures that might have survived previous poaching, I am willing to be benevolent and tolerate your presence here." She handed him the bow and after a moment's gauging, he reached to take it. Regina snatched it away. "I require space and no disturbance," she said. "The library and a bedroom upstairs that I have already claimed. The rest you can do whatever the devil you want to do with as long as you're not in the way."

"For someone without a claim to rule, you certainly like to boss people around - in an obnoxiously aggravating manner at that," the man stated dryly. "You need not worry about the bedroom - I will steer clear of it. As to the library, as much as it displeases me, we will have to share - I have business here, too."

Once she would have spurned such a compromise. Now she was willing to concede - and apparently, so was he. Both were highly suspicious. She knew her reasons, of course, but marvelled at his.

"You seem to be adjusting to the rejection of your original offer rather well," she smirked.

"That, Your Majesty," he said with unmistakable sarcasm underlined by an unnecessarily elaborate bow, "is because I do not consider the subject closed yet."

Regina returned a small mock-curtsey without batting an eye. "Believe me, it is."

The men reached for his bow, which she let slip from her fingers, and shrugged.

"We shall see."


	4. Means to an End

_Robin gets a voice of his own in this one (and will in the future, as I plan to keep switching between Regina's and Robin's POV), and Regina negotiates the conflicting voices in her mind and heart._

* * *

Robin leafed through the book he was gazing at but was actually taking nothing in. It seemed useless. All he had found had been so, really: either lacking magic completely or featuring magic way too advanced for him to even understand.

The Queen would know.

What else could she want with the Dark One's library if not to study magic? It was a shame the library wasn't Robin' to offer in exchange for her help.

He would never have thought he might some day seek to ally himself with the Evil Queen. It had come as a shock even to himself when the idea popped up in his mind. The thought of the atrocities she was said to have committed made bile rise in his throat, and the idea of an alliance went completely against the grain. Yet chance had made their paths cross at a moment of dire need, and despite his misgivings, Robin had been quick to understand the potential benefits: someone with the Queen's abilities would greatly help his fight against the Witch.

Was it mere coincidence that the Queen should return to the land after such a long time precisely when the Witch was becoming an ever larger threat? Why was she back, along with other former denizens of the Enchanted Forest including even her arch enemy, Snow White, with whom she seemed to have no intention of contending?

The pile of unanswered questions grew by the minute, but the whys would soon turn into hows in Robin's mind. With magic to match the Witch's, his chances of rescuing Roland and the other kidnapped children were sparse. He had no magical allies, the books were proving useless without magical training, and precious time was being wasted in fruitless research while his son was in danger. He might not like it, but he needed the Queen.

Unfortunately, his cock-sure assertion made to the Queen had been a bluff, an idle wish at best - in reality, Robin had no irresistible offer to make. Calling on her pride and powerlust should have done the trick, but it hadn't, and the failure to capture her interest genuinely puzzled him. Robin had guessed the person the Queen was cracked up to be would jump at the notion of someone claiming her throne and her kingdom. Either the stories he had heard were misleading or they no longer applied, for after the initial speck of ire, the Queen's face had cleared and her answer had been poised.

However, it was not the unexpected collectedness of her reaction that intrigued him the most. There had been a brief moment in between the memory of which Robin just couldn't shake: the pained, hollow gape of loss staring from her eyes. What was that all about? If he had to guess he would probably say some great tragedy had made the Queen insusceptible to banalities like palaces or power. It almost seemed she had nothing to gain, and nothing to lose.

For reasons his mind didn't entirely grasp, this was making Robin even more anxious for her to accept the offer.

What more could he do? If the Queen didn't want power, what indeed could there be in it for her?

He'd have to think of something.

* * *

Regina drew the moth-eaten damask curtains, letting some daylight into the room. It was still early, very early in the morning, and she had hoped to have the library all to herself for a few hours before the outlaw joined her. Everything about him caused her discomfort, which in turn brought forth irritation, which would manifest in malicious one-liners and even a thunderous row the previous day. Much to her dismay, she spotted the scoundrel sprawled in an ancient armchair with a book on his lap and a pile of them at his feet. He was asleep.

Had he stayed till late at night looking for some means to increase his chances against the Witch who held his son hostage? Most likely he had.

The sight of his careworn face made it impossible to banish the thoughts: the circles under his eyes, the droop of his lips, and the frown that stayed on even as he slept awoke sympathy within her that she couldn't weed out. She had seen it before - she had lived it before. Neverland had given her many memories, none of them good; yet she welcomed even those because Henry had been there still. Yes, she knew how this man must feel. Perhaps she really could help him.

Regina sighed with frustration. This was not what she had come here for. The man was a stranger to her, an outlaw, a thief, and who knew what else. Besides, she could hardly do it anyway. It took massive effort to just get out of bed in the morning. Perhaps it was the drive, the purpose she saw written all over this accursed man's face that made her own plight seem even worse. No matter what dire circumstances he was faced with, he still had the chance of saving his son, of being reunited with him. For her there was no hope, no such prospect to draw strength from.

But she was here now. For all the trouble it had cost her, she could as well do some of the research she had claimed, before the Charmings and now also this stranger, to have come here for.

What was she looking for?

Something powerful. More powerful than she had ever even heard of. Something with the power to give her hope again.

Dozens of books were pulled out from the high-reaching bookshelves. Some were entirely non-magical; Rumple seemed to have enjoyed a good novel once in a while - or had that been Belle? Some were entirely too magical; indeed, there was one or two so gruesome they turned Regina's stomach. Apparently there were depths of dark arts even she and Rumple had not come anywhere near to.

There were unspeakable things magic could accomplish, ones Regina hadn't even dreamed of, and she reached the conclusion that much of what she was seeing should in fact never see the light of day. Was that the kind of magic she'd have to resort to in order to get back to Henry? She shut the book close. Henry would never want that; and, somewhat to her surprise, she realised neither did she anymore. There was no point in forcing a way back into his life at a cost that would make him not want her in it in the first place. Part of her felt relieved by that - the part that recoiled at the idea of plunging into the realms referred to by those wretched books.

It was at the sight of the growing pile of discarded old tomes that it dawned on her. How on earth had it taken so long?

Regina stood over the sleeping man with an arm hovering over his shoulder for a while, still unable to decide whether the idea was just foolish or completely insane, and unsure as to how to wake him. _Oh, for crying out loud, just do it_. She shook him with what she judged was moderate strength - decisive but not outright aggressive. He stirred immediately, sitting up bolt upright and ready to engage an enemy. The wild look on his face and the sudden movement of his hand to his belt challenged the composure she was determined to show, but in the end she managed to refrain from showing any of the distress she had momentarily experienced.

"How powerful is this witch?" she asked without preamble.

The Witch came form a different land, possibly with kinds of magic unknown in this world. If she possessed some powerful means, knew spells unknown possibly even to Rumplestiltskin, perhaps she would be the answer Regina barely dared hope for. Perhaps she would be the way home. Regina felt hope sprout in her soul and tried to uproot the tender blade - there was nothing more torturous than false hope - but once there, it was impossible to remove.

Besides, she had realised as she had stood over the sleeping outlaw, if this Witch was threatening the land, Snow White's efforts at rebuilding the kingdom would naturally lead to a state of war between them. They would not have a child-kidnapper go unpunished - a sentiment Regina had to admit she shared. She could as well engage the Witch right away.

Regina waited with bated breath as Robin slid the blade back into his belt.

"Powerful," he said finally. "So far she has met with little resistance. Am I to gather that Your Majesty is afraid of a challenge?" His eyes gleamed at the insinuation, and watched her intently.

"Your preposterous manipulations have no effect on my decisions, bandit." It was clever of him to try and play her like this, she had to give him that, and perhaps some time ago she would have been deceived, but now she saw past his intentions. "But this might be your lucky day. This Witch might, in the end, be the answer to my problem."

"What does that mean, exactly?" he asked with narrowed eyes. Did she catch a glimmer of hope in his carefully arranged face? Well, it was indeed his lucky day.

"As much as I detest the idea," Regina stressed, "it seems we have a common case after all. I have magic, and you - if you're to be believed - have information we could use to destroy her."

"I don't like this any more than you do, Your Majesty," he replied with shocking sincerity but a surprising lack of animosity. "But all the same, I'm glad we see eye to eye on the matter. How much time do you need before we leave?" he gestured towards the books scattered on the floor.

"We can leave in the afternoon. Hopefully we'll have finished with the Witch by nightfall."

"By nightfall? Your palace is several days' journey from here."

"You forget about this," she smirked and revealed with a flourish a knot of bright yellow flames on her palm.

He shook his head with a small smile. "I'm afraid it won't be quite so simple."

* * *

There was little for her to pack - next to nothing, in fact. Two books from the library and a pair of identical, small mirrors fit easily in the leather bag she had discovered in one of the drawers. She ransacked a few bedrooms in search of a pair of boots presentable enough but flat and thus more convenient for this ridiculous hike they were about to embark upon. The man who referred to himself as Robin Hood - though heaven only knew if that was the outlaw's real name at all - had informed her, with an unnerving mixture of amusement and weariness, that the rules of magic seemed to have been slightly altered by the Witch's doing, wherefore it would be unwise to just poof themselves to the Dark Palace as Regina had planned to do. Regina was beginning to feel infuriated by this mystery witch. The bandit was turning out to be a real pain in the rear, too.

Being denied the use of magic until further notice was a nuisance but it had its perks. It would give her time to conserve her energy - something she had to admit she needed to do after the series of challenging feats of magic both in Neverland and, within a span of just a few hours, again in Storybrooke. She'd been left feeling more vulnerable than she liked to admit. Now at least she had a pretext to gather her strength again, without revealing the delicate situation to this man she absolutely refused to trust.

The feeling certainly seemed to be mutual, which was nothing but clever of the man. She was the Evil Queen for the people of the Enchanted Forest after all, and she could easily believe his words when he had stated flat out his distaste at an ally of her calibre. Yet the inexplicable absence of personal hate she had been so accustomed to receiving from the often nameless, faceless victims of her deeds confused her.

When she reached the bottom of the staircase, he wasn't there yet. A grain of irritation stirred inside her, offended at being kept waiting; she dismissed it impatiently. This was difficult - constantly having to balance the Queen she had been in this land, and whose persona she needed to shroud herself in for this mission, and the Regina she had become since. Could she be both? Could she switch between them as needed, the way she was consciously opting for the Queen in face of the constant sense of threat she felt at the presence of this outlaw she had allied herself with?

"I'm sorry," she heard his voice amid hurried steps from the landing above. "I need a little more time."

"I don't tolerate tardiness," she retorted.

He stopped a few steps short of the bottom, towering over her. He looked puzzled for a moment, then his face hardened. "I believe I apologised," he said dryly.

"Well, that changes nothing about the fact that you're delaying our departure, disrupting our plan already. How am I supposed to feel about working with someone so unreliable from the very start?"

"I assure you you'll find I'm no such thing, Your Majesty," he returned with indignation. "There's something I would take with me that I cannot find."

"Then by all means tell me what the invaluable object is. I might as well aid you in your search - what with your apparent incompetence, we could be here for days otherwise." That wasn't fair, and the ease with which the words rolled off her tongue practically without her own volition made her wonder if the Queen was getting the best of her - could she control how far she would let this side of her go, or would she lose herself in the process again as she had before?

To deepen her discomfort, the wretched man seemed untouched by her glaring insult. He returned her look with a calm if a little careworn look of his own. "It's nothing you will find any value in. It's a green camisole I had made for my son but hadn't gotten the chance to give to him yet."

Regina felt a crushing onset of shame. Her face burned and her lips quivered as her hand shot involuntarily to the folds of her garment. He was wrong - she saw all the value in the prized object. She bowed her head to hide the crimson creeping into her cheeks, and pushed past him up the stairs.

Sure enough, she found it on the floor beside the bedside table - she must have dropped it the morning of her arrival after she had tripped over it in the hall, and never thought of it since. Picking it up, she straightened it on the bed - a deep green camisole fit for a child about four or five years of age. Again, her hand wandered into the folds of her dress and lingered briefly on the folded sheet of paper. Regina swallowed. Now was not the time to brood. They needed to go.

Folding the small, carefully stitched garment, she made her way back to the hall.

Robin Hood was still standing where she'd left him, possibly too stunned by her inexplicable behaviour to move. Regina pushed the camisole into his hands, never meeting his eye.

"Can we go now?" she said in what she had intended to be an authoritative tone but realised with horror came out hoarse with emotion - emotion she had no intention of allowing him a glimpse into.

She strolled past him briskly but he caught up with her at the door and detained her by the arm - not harshly but the contact made her want to run and hide all the same. Or perhaps the considerateness in the gesture was precisely what made her want to run.

"Where'd you find it?"he asked quietly.

"Over there," she suggested with a motion of her head, and, against herself, stole a glance at him while she thought he would be looking the other way. She fancied she saw his lips curl into something that could be the beginning of a smile. Then his eyes were upon her, and she found she couldn't avert her look for some reason, even though she felt a rising sense of panic.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"It's nothing," she heard herself say. What the hell was wrong with her? Perhaps it wasn't too late to still save something. "It means nothing to me," she assured him, "and seems to carry much meaning for you. And now we can go at last."

Regina slipped away from him; he let her go easily. She strode out of into the daylight with her head held high. Thank heavens, it had worked - she had just saved the Queen's face.

"Thank you," he repeated as he fell into step with her under the dark blue sky.

Perhaps he wasn't entirely fooled after all; she'd have to be more careful to keep the facade up.

But the faint warm glow in the pit of her stomach certainly wasn't helping matters.


	5. Dream Team

_This chapter contains some frosty weather and some frosty manner, both of which Robin tries to mitigate but succeeds only partially. Well, see for yourselves. Again, thanks for your support!_

* * *

Several miles passed in near silence. Robin made a few attempts at polite conversation, all of which were met with curt, dismissive answers by the Queen. Little though this surprised him, he would have preferred conversation all the same for multiple reasons.

Robin wasn't used to silent travel; journeys would be spent in lively conversation of at least companionable silence with his Merry Men. Now there was little distraction from the worries clouding his mind and heart. Was Roland alright? Was he being kept well? Was he scared? Would Robin really find him at the Dark Palace as he assumed he would? Would his and the Queen's joint effort be enough to bring the Witch down?

Lost in thought, he barely noticed the sky had turned a hostile, steely grey. Glancing to his side he saw the Queen had fallen behind. Perhaps she was tired. Someone like her would hardly be used to long, tiresome travel on foot. Robin refrained from sighing; he hadn't thought about this before. As much as he tried to stay fair, the idea of being delayed still irked him somewhat - the image of his son, alone and scared, continuously haunted him.

"Would you like to rest?" he asked, turning back.

She caught up before he finished the sentence and marched right past him without so much as a reply. Robin's eyes followed her. The hem of her skirt bore the marks of mud, and the dust of the road had settled on her boots. Darker than the gathering clouds in her elaborate gown, she moved with surprising energy and determination, taking long, brisk strides that bore a certain elegance as well. The woman was quite impressive.

Robin moved to draw level with her. For all she seemed to care, he could have stayed behind, for she never showed any intention of checking whether he was following at all. Not that he should care.

He had heard all they said about the Evil Queen since he had arrived in this land, of course. Even if just the half of it was true it was beyond atrocious. Somehow those stories drew an image of her larger than life, whereas he couldn't help but see an actual person walking beside him, kicking up the dust with a tenacity to match his own. True, he saw more pride behind her effort than the worry he was being fuelled by, but that changed nothing about the fact that she had guts. Even without magic she seemed to be more than a spoiled, capricious tyrant.

The scene at the library was nagging at his mind again. Why hadn't she just used her magic and killed him? Then she would be rid of him to prowl the Dark Castle to her will. He would not have made it so easy for her to eliminate him of course but still, she hadn't even seemed to seriously consider the option. Why? Was she not the infamous Evil Queen? Had she not brought death and suffering on dozens of people before the Curse and through it? Why not crush the odd outlaw when he crossed her path?

And then there was the camisole. Robin didn't understand himself why it had grown on hims so much, especially since Roland had never even touched it, but he just hadn't been able to part with it. The Queen's initial snappish reaction had been no shock to him but what had followed had left his mind blank. Not only had she delivered the garment but he had also felt quite certain he had caught the reflection of some curious emotion in her expression as she had handed it over. Yes, there had been something there - her eyes - though what it had been he couldn't say.

All in all, his new ally was a mystery to him, and he was intrigued against himself.

A rush of shiny droplets spattered the ground. A cool wind chimed in, throwing a spray of water in his face. The sting said it before his eyes caught it: they had a nasty night ahead of them. There was hardly a patch of sky that hadn't been obstructed by a flight of heavy clouds. The treetops swayed, leaves were torn from the branches and whipped away by the gale, and the dirt path soon became a muddy sluice.

Robin huddled under his cloak, pulling it tighter to him. A glance at the Queen revealed her struggling to keep her coat from being whipped away by the wind. Just as he moved to help her, she twisted out of his reach - whether on purpose or by accident he couldn't tell. Either way, she managed to bring the coat under control again, and without looking at him once, pushed forward against the oncoming storm.

* * *

The wet logs and branches provided for a sad sight of a fire: more smoke than heat rose from the pile of wood but they would have to make do with what they had. They'd been lucky to at least have come across the small cave to have a dry patch of ground to rest for the night. The Queen's fingers would twitch now and again at the pathetic sight of the smoke rings swirling around them, floating upwards, and eventually dissolving in the night air. When her eyes flashed at him and her mouth twitched, he braced himself for some sharp remark but none came. Nor did she proceed to outdo his attempt at a fire with a magical one of her own. She merely crouched and rubbed her hands over the weak flames.

Robin handed her a chunk of bread and a lump of cheese. "Not exactly a royal feast, Your Majesty, but supper all the same," he grinned to ease the mood. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, surveying him. At last, she took the food he was offering - and looked away without a single word of comment.

Quite irrationally, he felt a little hurt. Perhaps he shouldn't complain: worse things had happened to those in the Queen's disfavour.

"By all means correct me if I am wrong," Robin couldn't stop himself, "but I take it there will be no talking at the table?"

She graced him with a fleeting look and a slightest tilt of her head but no more; then she went back to her bread and cheese. Robin's dejection morphed into irritation. Had there ever been anyone more obstinate, more conceited, more frustrating? Challenging, intriguing, beautiful? Wait, where in the hells did that come from?

"When did the Witch take your son?"

The unexpected words made him snap back to reality. So she had spoken after all. It took him a while to absorb the message, while he busily worked at chasing away the unsettling impressions of a moment ago. She didn't meet his look as she waited for his answer.

"Two days ago."

"What were you still doing in Rumple's castle?"

Was that an accusation? It had been hard to stay. The truth was the only thing he had wanted had been to rush to Roland's rescue at once.

"Trying to find something to use against her more effectively," he answered and poked the fire with a stick, sending up another cloud of smoke and a handful of sparks.

"Found anything of note?" Her voice suggested no reproach, quite the contrary: it was quite neutral - too much so, in fact. But why?

"Not really, as you have probably gathered." He nibbled on his chunk of bread. "All notable magical items are gone, and the books I could make nothing of."

"They're beyond the level of anyone not sufficiently versed in magic," she nodded. "Nothing you as a non-practitioner could gather anything from."

"My turn to ask," he said matter-of-factly, when in fact he was conscious of a certain level of excitement at finally having her talking. Keeping it casual would hopefully keep her comfortable enough to continue. To his dismay, however, she had tensed already, stopped eating, and merely examined him closely. A sudden urge to swallow the words overcame him at that.

"Well?" she demanded with an eyebrow raised. That was good - curiosity was good, it wasn't animosity; maybe he hadn't antagonised her yet after all.

"I want my son back. What does the Witch have that you want?" The question had been nagging at him all day. "Not your palace. Not the kingdom. What?"

Did her eyes glaze over for a split second?

"Magic," she said with her chin up.

Why the defiant air?

"To what end?" he pressed on.

The Queen sat up straight, her presence coming to fill up the space in an instant. She gave him a long, hard, searching look that made Robin feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. If she was weighing her options as he assumed she must be, what were the options she was considering, and what would eventually spur her decision?

The Queen stood up, and he hardly needed any more to understand the conversation was over.

"Good night," she said with an air of uncompromising finality. Then she spread a blanket on the floor on the far side of the fire, and retired without further comment.

What the hell was wrong with him? What was he thinking, treading carefully all day to avoid conflict? He definitely wasn't intimidated by her, although she could certainly be intimidating. So the Queen kept him at a distance - why should that bother him at all?

But there was something there behind her simple 'magic' - her hesitation was proof enough of that. The more he had hoped she would tell, the more her resolve not to had seemed to grow, until eventually she had chosen not to reveal any more to him.

Why did he even care? He searched his mind warily until it returned a reasonable explanation. Probably because, once she possessed all that extra magic, she would be all the more dangerous. Yes, that had to be it. Robin settled on his own blanket and closed his eyes, leaving his contending gut feeling outside the door.

* * *

The morning brought more rain. The wind only added to their inconvenience, sending torrents of water against them in forceful blasts. Towards midday, the shower turned into a drizzle, which in turn was replaced by sleet. Cold watery flakes hit their clothes, skin and eyes with a sting, then dissolved leaving a wet trail behind. The wind crept under their skin, bearing with it the taste of ice.

Robin kept his head bowed against the hostile elements. So did the Queen - every now and then he chanced a look at her, and always found her keeping up with him but never looking his way. They had barely spoken a word since they set out, and with the steady onslaught of rain and snow and wind it was easier to keep it that way.

Then, about an hour into the icy rain, Robin finally seemed to have caught her at an unguarded moment. Clutching her coat with both hands, she tugged it upwards for protection from the cool droplets trickling down her neck. She shivered. Robin frowned. Even feathers could only repel so much, and the Queen's coat was dripping water - it couldn't be providing much protection at this point. Robin snatched one of the blankets from the satchel he was carrying. They'd miss it at night but with a proper fire, he would be fine without it.

The Queen winced as he made to throw the blanket over her shoulders. "What are you doing?"

"Your coat's all soaked," Robin managed, baffled by her reaction.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she resisted, pulling away from him and backing away beyond his reach. Her eyes seemed to water and her wind-beaten cheeks and ears were raw red.

"Your Majesty," he insisted with restrained mildness, though impatience threatened to overtake him. Why was she being so impossibly difficult? It was just a blanket, and he was offering it in all good will within perfect reason. Did she not see that? "This is unwise, you'll get ill."

"How dare you patronise me," she huffed with her arms crossed. "I don't need your favours."

Was she so conceited that she felt it would be beneath her to accept even the least of help from an outlaw?

"I'm just being a decent human being here." The Queen scoffed at that. That did it for Robin - what was the woman thinking? "Your absurd pride will cost us precious time if you get yourself ill!" he exclaimed.

Her face darkened at his outrcy. "Put that thing away before it gets all soaked through," she snapped, "or else you'll just be a blanket short tonight - your choice." Turning away from him, she set off at a would-be-brisk pace, her boots squelching in the mud.

Robin stared after her for a moment. Had he not seen it with his own eyes he never would have believed a person could be so utterly impetuous. Then he stowed the blanket back away into the bag and followed, not bothering to catch up but staying a few steps behind her. When her foot slipped on a rivulet running along the path and the Queen landed in the soft brown slush, Robin didn't rush to her help.

"What is that?" she eyed him with suspicion and an alertness that puzzled him. One would say he was threatening her in some way.

"Tea, Your Majesty," he said, holding out a tin cup that oozed a funny, obnoxious odour. He could do it - he could keep a straight face. "For your cold."

"I do not have a cold." An almighty sneeze shook her. Her cheeks flushed and her lips tightened. She shot him a dangerous look that dared him to argue back.

Robin tried not to look amused. The woman was quite impossible. Still he said nothing but kept his arm outstretched, waiting. At long last, she accepted the steaming cup.

The Queen wrinkled her nose at the smell. Robin averted his face for a moment - he wouldn't laugh. She took a careful sip and her face contorted. The tea tasted as foul as it smelled, and Robin couldn't help his lips twitching at the sight of her. The Queen shot him an ugly glare but didn't comment. Bracing herself, she continued to sip the hot beverage. Robin watched her features rearrange into mild surprise and badly masked relief. She began to breathe more freely, and seemed to enjoy it. That was the perk of the concoction - it stunk and tasted nasty but its effect was immediate, almost miraculous.

"Thanks," she muttered, keeping her eyes fixed on the mug.

"Excuse me, what was that again?" Robin asked with a smirk.

She pinned him with a direct, firm look. "Don't push it, thief." Her eyes were a rich brown and seemed to radiate some mystical power.

Robin cleared his throat. "Well, you're welcome, Your Majesty." He opted for a humorous undertone. "Wouldn't want you to be struck down by a common cold when we have the Witch to bring down." Would she play along?

"Have no fear, bandit. I'm not so easily defeated."

His eyes bore into hers in search for the answer to an unspoken question. Her face tensed.

"Perhaps you'd be even less so if your weren't so stubborn," Robin chanced mildly.

She jerked the cup from her lips at his words, sloshing the little remnants of tea over her boots.

"You overreach now," she hissed.

They stared at each other moment after moment, sparks flying from her eyes only to break on his steady, searching gaze. Sometimes, anger was no more than fear in hiding. What did the Queen fear? Perhaps in time he would understand. This woman was like an intricate puzzle that refused to give away the pieces, much less the key to the solution. Well, he had patience enough.

"Good night, Your Majesty," he said amicably and retired under a blanket. He heard her do the same shortly.

When her breathing grew calm and steady, Robin rose and spread his blanket over her own, then curled up close by the fire and went to sleep with a lingering grin on his face.

* * *

Regina wasn't asleep. She was lying huddled under the thin blanket, fighting each oncoming shudder, suppressing the odd threat of a sneeze, forcing her breathing into a peaceful pattern. Was he sleeping yet? No - that faint rustle had to be him fidgeting. For one foolish moment she wondered if he wasn't going to walk out on her. Then she felt the weight of something covering her and stiffened, ready to lash out. But nothing happened. A scrunch of boots and a shuffling sound later, everything grew quiet again.

Regina relished the warmth spreading over her under the double covers. Why did he do that? Out of all the bandits out there, had she actually stumbled upon a gallant one? Rubbish.

Was he freezing now, just like she had been before, or was the fire enough? Why did that even bother her?

She forced her mind back into concentration, her ears strained, listening for his breathing. Her original plan had been to seek a quiet place aside the camp but that would be foolish under the circumstances. If the thief was asleep though, and she remained quiet, this would do. Her fingers trailed down her gown and buried into the folds, wrapping around a square of folded paper. She stopped and listened. All seemed at peace. Good - she wouldn't be seen, and there would be no obnoxious questions.

Flickering shadows obscured parts of the carefully unfolded piece of paper. Not that she needed the light: she could see it - see him - with her eyes closed, every hour of the day. A lump grew in her throat, choking her, forcing her to gasp for breath. This wasn't new to her: seeing shadows, seeking solitude, feeding on memories. It was Neverland all over again, except worse, because this time it was forever.

The Henry in the picture she was clutching was smiling. They had both been happy on the day it had been taken. Was he happy now? Had it worked the way she had intended for it to? If so, he had no recollection of a mother other than Emma. From every memory they had shared, Regina would have been erased and replaced by Emma instead. Anything, as long as he was happy and loved. He had that. He had to. It was what she wanted for him, it was what she had given her happy ending away for more than anything else. If it had worked the way it was supposed to.

If it had worked the way it was supposed to, Regina would never see Henry again. She would never hug him, stroke him, or place a kiss on his forehead. She would never watch him with his face buried in a comic book, stuffing himself with his favourite pizza. He would never come groaning to ask for medicine for an upset tummy afterwards, and she would never give him a spoonful of gin on a cube of sugar to soothe his stomach, and sit by his bed while they waited for the nausea to go away. She would never hear him call her Mom again.

A dry sob escaped her. Everything hurt. But despite the lump in her throat, no tears would come. At this point, she caught herself wishing they would.


	6. Clash and Concord

_Regina faces moments of trust and distrust, neither of which she finds easy to deal with. She stumbles upon unwarranted enemies and unexpected friends alike. A face-off is imminent.  
_

* * *

Regina woke to the crackle of a newly rekindled fire and refused to move. It was warm under the blankets, and soft, and easy - she didn't have to struggle to keep up with a forest-prowling thief twice as fit as herself, nor did she have to be constantly on her guard to keep him outside her defenses.

Her feet ached, and when she tried to move her legs her muscles screamed in pain. Thank goodness for the flat boots, but even those were not enough to keep her feet from developing blisters. It was easier to stay beneath the covers and pretend to be asleep a little longer.

Steps approached, even more cautious than the night before. How long before he decided to shake her awake? Regina half-resolved to open her eyes and force herself up, when iron fingers grabbed her by the arms, yanked her up from the ground and pinned her to the wall, leaving her feet dangling in the air.

Regina gasped. The man wasn't Robin Hood. This one was at least a head taller and strong as a bull. Her arms began to lose feeling as he tightened his hold on her. Her mind raced. Magic would sort him out, hopefully, but with her powers weakened and her arms out of the game, chances were she wouldn't do enough damage.

"What do you want?" she croaked, playing for time, mustering as much anger as she could.

"One witch down," the man spat. "One to go."

Regina's eyes darted from the man's face to his massive torso to his lower body. In a flash, she aimed a two-footed kick at his crotch, full force. The man roared and let go off her, clutching the painful spot in agony. Regina crashed to the ground and started scrambling away from the man's reach, but he was too fast. She groaned in frustration as he lifted her up in the air again.

"John!" a voice boomed from behind. "What the hell are you doing?"

The man whipped around, twisting Regina's arm painfully. Robin Hood was standing at the entrance. His face darkened at Regina's involuntary yelp. He wasn't wielding a weapon and was shorter than John, but somehow he managed to look formidable, and Regina's captor shrunk back a little at the sight of Robin with his eyes flashing anger.

"I caught the witch," he explained with a slight hesitation.

"You're wrong. This is the Queen. Why?" he demanded again.

"So she won't be setting any more villages on fire, like she did the one to the north last night."

"That's impossible," Robin said with a quick glance at Regina. "We've been together the whole time."

The man - John - was still not releasing his grip on her. Her arms were all but numb by now. If the bandit couldn't keep his cronies in check, she would have to take care of it herself.

"Then who else?" the giant objected. "She has magic. She could've slipped out, or maybe she don't even have to."

That was typical - people who didn't understand the first thing about magic were the quickest to make assumptions. Regina was flushed with anger, shame and frustration. They knew there had been a witch here wreaking havoc before Regina had even returned, yet the first thing they do is accuse her of the deed? Well, so much for the alliance. Now she would have to deal with John _and_ Robin. It only remained to hope that her magic had recovered enough.

"I don't think so, John. Let her go." Robin's words came as a shock - a bigger shock than the unjust accusation. Could it be that he actually believed her innocent? "John," Robin said quietly but she heard a note of warning in his voice. If John refused to obey, would there be a fight? "Let her go - now." Regina's feet touched the ground as the giant set her down again, not gently but not too roughly either. Her arms burned and refused to obey. Robin turned to John. "Go and bring some more water for the fire. I'll take care of this." The ruffian gave Regina one more look of pure mistrust, but then did as told.

Regina rubbed the sore spots on her arms carefully, holding back a groan. It hurt like hell.

"Did you do it?"

The thief was fixing her with his gaze. So he wasn't so sure after all. Well, it hadn't been very clever of him to let her go if he had doubts. The intensity of his stare made her skin crawl, which in turn infuriated her.

"Does it matter if I deny it?" she spat but the effect was rather pathetic. She was tired of everything, so very tired. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? "You will believe what you want anyway."

"Did you do it?" he repeated without pause.

For a wild moment she considered conceding. She'd get rid of them all, and she wouldn't have to face that horrible feeling of being misjudged and rejected.

"No," she said quietly. Whatever made her say it and why it lacked mockery or defiance at least was beyond her.

_Please, believe me_, said a small voice somewhere deep down. She wanted to strangle that voice. But she was that voice.

His eyes bore into hers. Unease overcame her under his piercing gaze - it seemed to reach all the way to the depths of her soul, and she felt panic rise inside her.

"Then that's enough," he nodded finally. "John," he said to the returning giant, "this has been settled. The Queen is our ally, not our enemy."

John looked at her and Regina bore his glare unflinching. Well, his eyes didn't feel like X-rays seeing right through the protective shell around her soul.

"Why are you here?" Robin asked. "You were supposed to guard the post until further notice or an emergency."

"There's an emergency, alright," John replied. "You're headed straight towards it. The Witch's army."

"This Witch has an army now?" Regina would not have expected an army here. If Snow and Emma were to be believed, the land was hardly occupied and all you could hope to send an army against anyway were the colonies of ogres. That had been the case before the New Curse, though.

"They say it's an nasty bunch of flesh-eating monsters."

"People say a lot of things," Regina scoffed. People were so gullible, they believed anything way too easily - she knew only too well. But this bandit, Robin Hood, believed her word now, despite her name in this land. Why would he do that? She gave herself a mental shake - there were more urgent matters to handle right now.

"Has anyone actually seen them?"

"There's been no confrontation so far," John replied, confirming her suspicions.

"Then we'd better avoid them for now," Robin cut in. "Let's continue to the palace."

"We can't," Regina said. "They'll pass too close to Snow White's castle. There will be battle."

John bristled. "We're not going up against Snow White now, are we?"

She actually felt sympathetic now - the idea of suddenly being allied with the Evil Queen had to take some getting used to.

"Of course not," Robin assured him patiently. That certainly was a virtue she could not boast. "We're going up against the Witch." He turned to her. "Will Snow White be coming to meet them?"

That didn't bear much thinking or, indeed, leave much doubt.

"If they know she's coming, yes. They'd never miss a chance to be the hero. Or stand up to a villain." That was a little more than she had intended to say - they were allies now after all. But old habits die hard, and this certainly seemed to be true of both parties.

Robin put out the fire and got the bags. "We'd best join our forces then, before the Witch arrives. Lead the way, Your Majesty."

* * *

They came upon Snow White, Charming, and the rest of the party before noon. There was no one else with them, however, not even a semblance of an army. Snow greeted Robin with easy familiarity that made Regina feel a stab of envy, which she immediately snubbed out. Apparently the two of them had been bandits together for a short time. What was it to Regina?

As Charming and Robin shook hands, Snow slipped away and headed to her.

"Everything alright?" she asked with a scrutinising look that made Regina want to withdraw as usual. She nodded. "Regina..." Snow put a hand on her shoulder and took her to the side. What ever was going on? "This Witch, she's spreading word that it's you doing it - burning down villages."

So it was villages now, was it? This morning it had only been one village. Her reputation was not going to soar. Ironically, this time she was not to blame. But, as before, that wouldn't make any difference.

Perhaps some of her thoughts showed, because Snow hurried to add: "We didn't believe it."

Regina's eyes wandered to the rest of the group. It was hard to imagine none of them believed the lie. Snow would have made them go with her own belief, most likely.

Even so, there were now at least two people who had chosen to believe in Regina's innocence. That was more than Regina would have dared hope for.

"Do you know anything about her?" she asked.

"I was hoping you would," Snow sighed. "Nothing in Rumple's books?"

"There wasn't much time to look," Regina admitted. "The Witch is holding his son," she pointed Snow in the bandit's direction, "and other children captive at - my palace." Despite what she had told Robin Hood, this was beginning to bother her, especially with the newly uncovered framings. This Witch had some gall.

"The Blue Fairy told us that. She doesn't know much about the Witch, though."

"Your old friend might," Regina said. "At least he pretended to, when he suggested teaming up against her."

"We'll ask him, then. Regina," Snow began, and the way she spoke made it clear that she was changing the topic, probably to one Regina would feel uncomfortable with. The awkward pause indicated she was right. "How are you really?" Snow blurted eventually.

"What do you mean? Apart from a receding cold, I'm fine, of course."

Her walls had come back up with the bandit around, and now she wasn't ready to let anyone in. The memory of that brief moment of connection between Snow and her the night of her departure was bittersweet on her tongue. Nevertheless, now was not a time to let something like that reoccur.

Snow surveyed her with a slight tilt of her head, then she sighed and nodded. "Of course."

"Robin!"

A female voice rang from between the trees, and a woman in full armour appeared on the road, followed by a bunch of men. It all clicked now: Regina had seen her in that forest hideaway on her way to the Dark Castle, and John had been there, too.

"Mulan," he went to meet her. "What news?"

"They're coming. Now. They're almost upon us."

"But they were supposed to be miles away!" John exclaimed.

"Well, now they're not," Mulan stated. "Is this all the force we have?" She looked over the moderately small group: the Charmings, the dwarfs, the Merry Men, Granny, Belle, Neal, Hook, Robin, and Regina - at this point Regina believed Mulan's eyes showed recognition and a glint of suspicion. Well, that was hardly new.

"For now," Charming answered. "We're tougher than we look."

"I should hope so," Mulan nodded.

"We need to choose a battlefield," Robin proposed. "And we need to choose well."

"There's not much choice," the fat monk Regina remembered from the hideout spoke. "We can't go back, and we can't go forward. They've cut us off."

"That's just swell," Grumpy grunted. "Seems they picked the battlefield, after all."

"There's a mountain pass in the direction they're pushing us," Charming said.

Mulan shook her head. "We can't let ourselves be ambushed there. They'll shoot us all in a heartbeat."

"Unless we shoot them first," Robin said. "We need to claim the area before they get the chance."

* * *

Regina was remotely aware of her feet aching again as they marched their way to the mountain pass, but she dismissed the thought and kept up just like the days before. Everyone else seemed to be doing their best, too, so they made good progress and reached the pass by late afternoon.

The last stretch was steep uphill. Snow fell back somewhat and halted, leaning against a tree. Could she be so out of shape since her bandit days? Even in Neverland she seemed to be doing fine - better than Regina sometimes. She looked around for Charming - he was Snow's husband, for heaven's sake, and forever trailing behind her. But this time he was nowhere in sight, and wasn't that just wonderful. So Regina caught herself retracing her steps to check on Snow.

"I'm fine," Snow breathed before Regina had had time to come up with something to say. "Just a little out of breath. A little...tired."

"Why don't you ride, then?" There were a couple of horses with the party, surely they'd find one to give her.

"I've never been all that fond of riding," Snow smiled wanly, clutching her chest.

That was ridiculous. If Snow had trouble getting there on foot, surely she could take a few minutes' slow-paced ride. Regina looked around for the nearest available horse and saw Charming leading one down the slope to them. Good. He'd take care of his wife now.

"You'll be alright now," she said to Snow, turned away, and resumed her walk uphill.

"Regina, thanks," she heard Snow call after her, but she didn't look back.

Life had a weird sense of humour. After so many years of attempted murder, here they were stuck together, even looking out for each other - no matter how awkward that was proving to be. There was something else to it besides awkwardness, of course, but Regina wasn't ready to admit that yet.

When she reached the top, she found the others examining the terrain. Granny and a few Merry Men were even trying out their aim with the crossbow and bow, aiming down into the valley.

"This is all nice and well, of course," Hook smirked, looking down himself. "But what if they corner us here instead of riding across the valley?"

"Why would they?" Charming, who was helping Snow down from the horse, said with a hint of impatience. "They'll think we're fleeing, not taking on an army ten times our size."

But Regina had to agree. Surely they couldn't just trust the enemy to be reckless enough to fall into their own trap.

Robin Hood seemed to share that view.

"We should have a plan for such a scenario," he said.

"It's impossible to fight them here," Mulan backed him up immediately. "The terrain is too open, they would come at us in waves, and defeat us by sheer numbers."

"So that means we need to lure them into the pass somehow," Robin nodded, and Regina's mind clicked. She fancied she knew what the man was thinking.

"A decoy?" Neal asked.

The bandit confirmed Regina's assumption: "On horseback. They'll follow in belief the rest of us had taken the same route, and before they see their error it'll be too late."

It sounded like a good plan. Who would their rider be? Someone skilful on horseback, surely, otherwise it could easily cost the person their life, and quite possibly the lives of everyone else, too. Even for the most skilled rider it would be a risky endeavour.

"He'd need to ride close to the walls so the enemy stays in range," Charming mused.

"He?" Regina, Belle, and Mulan all bristled.

"They," Robin rushed to correct. "But we need you up here," he addressed Mulan, "to fight the strays. Your Majesty, any fireballs you can rain on them?"

"Plenty," she assured him with as much confidence as she could muster. The truth was, she still didn't quite know if her magic was ready to bear the strain of such a battle. Well, she'd see soon enough.

"I'll go," Belle said in answer to Robin's look. "I'm useless for fighting, but I can be a decoy." A closer look revealed a slight breathlessness and a tremble to Belle's fingers. Courage she had, but Regina wondered if she was at least a decent rider at all. Robin, too, seemed to have reservations, but didn't elaborate.

"There's our plan B, then," he concluded. "Now let's fan out and prepare for the attack."

* * *

Regina sat on a large sun-warmed rock gazing into the valley below. Everyone else seemed to be letting their guard down - it'd been a while and the attack should have begun already, but nothing had happened yet.

"Mind if I join you?"

Regina's eyes darted up and met the light blue-grey ones of Granny Lucas. She didn't exactly desire company but her curiosity was larger than her apprehension. They hadn't really talked much, not even in Storybrooke, apart from the occasionally exchanged phrase at the diner. Granny had advised her about Henry once or twice, though. It had meant more to Regina then than she thought anyone knew. Now she felt a surge of gratefulness at the thought.

She scooted a little to make place.

"How are you holding up?" Granny asked flat out.

"Fine," Regina returned automatically. It wasn't even always a conscious decision to keep people out anymore. It had become something of an instinct.

Granny gave a humourless laugh. "Yeah, I'm miserable, too."

It took a while for Regina to understand. "Oh," she sighed with a ripple of shame at not having noticed earlier. "Where's Ruby?"

"Who knows..." Granny shrugged. "Prowling the woods somewhere, I hope. I haven't smelled her yet, though."

Smelled her? Could Granny be a werewolf like her granddaughter? She had to be.

"I didn't realise this was something you were born with. So it's hereditary?" This was easier than talking about Henry, and Regina's curiosity was in fact genuine.

"Oh, yes," she nodded, meeting Regina's eye. "You're surprised."

"I guess I just never figured you were one, too." The truth was, she had never even thought about it, and even if she had known she wouldn't have cared. It hadn't been an exaggeration when she'd declared once that she'd cared for no one's happiness other than her own. "Then again, I also missed the fact your granddaughter was missing. I guess that just goes to show..."

"...that grief can be selfish," Granny finished for her. That wasn't been quite what Regina had in mind, and the statement had come out less harsh than Regina's own thoughts - something that hardly happened. "Tell me something, Regina," Granny said, and Regina became wary at once. But Granny took no notice, and continued in a relaxed tone. "Do you cry?"

"Cry?" No one had ever asked her that, as far as she could remember, and it took her completely off-guard. "You mean, ever?"

"I mean in the past days."

There had not been a single tear since their arrival. She would have been grateful, even proud of such an accomplishment once. Now it was just making matters worse. Surely she was supposed to cry a whole river's worth of tears after losing her son, so why couldn't she?

Regina kept silent.

"That's what I thought," Granny said softly.

"You're-" Regina bristled, then cooled down again at the sight of Granny's lined face, "not implying I don't miss him enough." Regina understood that somehow, though she couldn't have said if it had been Granny's voice or eyes or something else entirely. She only knew the woman wasn't judging her or accusing her.

"No," Granny confirmed as much. "You miss him too much, dear."

The word sounded different when spoken like that - Regina wouldn't go as far as to call it affectionate but she had no other word for it either.

Granny looked straight at her for the first time in a while. "It will get worse before it gets better."

"You seem to know a lot about grief," Regina muttered.

"I lost six brothers and my father to the wolf that marked me."

"What became of the wolf?" Regina knew what she would have done, and Granny could be fierce when challenged, and could hold her own rather well.

"I married him later," Granny chuckled, and this time there was warmth in the laugh.

Now, that Regina hadn't foreseen. How little she knew about the people she had cursed and lived around for almost three decades since. "I'm sorry about your loss."

"The trick is finding something to hold on to."

"Apparently I've always done that the wrong way - chosen the wrong things. Except for Henry."

"Now you're being unfair. Cut yourself some slack. You're here now. You're fighting - in a healthier way than before. I call that progress."

"It doesn't feel like much of a fight," Regina said, staring at her hands. Would Granny guess about the hollowness that seemed to be occupying most of her, and how she felt it threatened to fill her every pore, until maybe she'd grow so light and empty she would float away one day?

"Maybe it doesn't now. But you're a fighter."

Regina pondered that. It was true - she had never been one to lie down and die. She might just consider choosing her battles more carefully in the future. With Henry she had made her best choice ever, even though there had been mistakes as well. Once again, she remembered that time at the diner with a crying baby Henry, and Granny's advice on how to soothe her little prince with just the power of her voice. Well, now was as good a time as any...

"You know, I never thanked you for your advice - about Henry." Looking up at Granny, she saw a warm smile reflected in her eyes. "When he was a baby and I didn't know what I was doing and there was no one to ask..."

"We're all more or less clueless with the first one. In many ways we remain clueless even after a few," Granny grinned and shook her head at some distant memory. Then she looked back at Regina. "Just for the record, you could have asked."

That was too much for her to process. Overwhelmed, Regina averted her eyes.

"I hope Ruby's alright out there somewhere," she said quietly.

Granny patted her hand a few times. It felt good, and not even a little scary. This was new. Perhaps it was worth exploring.

A horn sounded from among the trees, and everyone stirred.

"They're coming!"

Regina sprang to her feet.

For a moment she heard nothing but the rush of their own group as everyone moved to take up arms and get into position. Granny held her crossbow at the ready and scanned the valley briefly before she turned towards the forest. The attack was coming from there. Charming, Mulan, and Robin drew their swords. The Merry Men and the dwarfs created a human wall behind them, with a few paces between each of them. A little distance behind this barrier, Snow was nocking an arrow, and a few remaining Merry Men including the monk called Friar Tuck waited with their bows drawn. Hook and Neal stood either side of them, each carrying a sword, in case the attackers broke through to the archers.

A sinister rumble rose from among the trees. Joining the group of archers and Granny, Regina scanned the trees for the first enemies. A flash of yellow among the leaves, and a dozen men gushed out into the clearing, launching into an incomprehensible battle chant. They were giant and armed with massive clubs, but that was all Regina could make out before their charge broke on the defensive line headed by Robin, Mulan, and Charming. Then the two sides clashed and all turned into no more than a blur of swarming arms and legs and blades and bludgeons. Belle broke into a run towards the saddled horse tied at the opposite edge of the forest.

A second line broke out from the trees and ran onto them. Arrows swished in the air in an arch over the fighters' heads and flew at the newcomers, taking down half of them. Another two brutes went into a wild frenzy as their yellow clothes caught fire. Regina cackled and aimed another fireball. It was essential to vanquish as many as possible before the enemy reached their front line. The archers, Regina, and Granny could not effectively engage the ones already in close combat for fear of hitting one of their own.

The advancing men were stopped just before they reached the fighters - but only just. Meanwhile, twice the number had spilled out of the woods. Patches of bright yellow danced before her eyes like reflections of the sun on water as the battle continued. Arrows whizzed and blades rang in unrelenting tempo, and patches of grass had gone ablaze as those Regina's fireballs had hit struggled to put the flames out and failed miserably. But clubs crashed down in increasing numbers, sending splinters of wood flying. There were too many of them. They needed to get the enemy into that valley. But where was Belle?

Taking aim again, Regina felt a shock of exhaustion, and saw with horror that the flames in her palm wavered. Hurling no less than two simultaneous fireballs, Regina looked around frantically. Robin and Charming were holding their own against a bunch of attackers but the other swordsmen were slowly being pushed further back. One of the Merry Men staggered under a heavy blow and fell to the ground. Neal and Hook were busy keeping the archers safe by engaging the odd soldier who'd managed to get through the front line.

At last Regina located Belle. She had been cornered by two rogues, and was trying to fight them off with a quarterstaff. Mulan had jumped to her aid and knocked one of the brutes aside. Belle threw herself out of the way, but apparently something went wrong: a club rolled onto the grass as Belle yelped and clutched her ankle. She would never make it to that horse now.

Regina, on the other hand, saw a clear path before her - provided she blasted a few men out of the way, but she trusted herself to accomplish that much yet.

The decision was born in no time. A shock of energy shook the ground and a handful of yellow-clad soldiers rocketed skyward. Regina reached the nervous horse in a few heartbeats.

"Good girl," she addressed the grey in a calm voice as she fumbled with the knot. The horse raked the ground with a hoof and snorted. Fighting was something the mare was used to, so Regina guessed it must be the fire making her nervous. "We'll be out of here in a minute," she assured the horse, having finally dealt with the knot.

As soon as she was in the saddle, Regina felt a surge of confidence. This was something she was good at. Perhaps she was supposed to do this from the very beginning - not Belle, not someone else, only her.

Regina tugged at the reins to turn the horse around, and surveyed the battlefield briefly. If this was supposed to work, she needed to make them notice her leaving. Whether they would follow or not was another question. The heat of the battle should suffice to make them make a rash decision, but first she'd have to provoke them somehow, make herself a more attractive trophy than the rest of her group. Well, that should be no problem - antagonising people had never exactly been a problem for her.

The restless mare responded without hesitation to the sharp kick of Regina's boots, and shot forward. Regina steered her straight into the scrambling knot around Belle and Mulan, hurtling through them like a cannonball and leaving the yellow-shirts scattered and stunned.

Begging for her powers to oblige her one more time before failing her completely, Regina built up a blazing fireball with her free hand. The mare squealed in fright and shied away from the flames. Realising escape was impossible, she did what Regina had hoped for: she reared with a mighty scream, making Regina, who had only one hand clutching the reins, slip in the saddle. Heads turned at the sound and eyes grew wide. Holding on almost effortlessly, Regina threw her head back and laughed: mounted on a rearing, raging mare kicking the air with rock-hard hooves, she appeared to them an awe-inspiring black-clad sorceress, who threatened to send them all ablaze with the roaring flames sitting harmlessly on her palm.

"If you can't stand the heat, you should not play with fire!" she thundered. "Now, roast!"

With all her strength, she sent the giant ball flying over the heads of the dwarfs and royals and Merry Men. Red and yellow flames swept enemies away until the ball exploded into dozens of smaller fires and began to feed on the trees on the edge of the forest

Without hesitation, Regina spurred the mare into a gallop and disappeared into the trees.

* * *

_Thoughts on this? I don't have much experience with writing action, and there will be a lot of that in the next chapter, too, so I'm quite anxious to see how it all works out. As to the scene with Granny, it just had to be written, although I wasn't sure whether to leave it in in the end but just couldn't let it go._

_What will happen to Regina now? Are you ready for the ride? ;)_


	7. Rhiannon Reborn

_As a means of thanks for all the views and reviews, here's a giant of a chapter for you while we all try to while away those last few hours before the show returns. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

There was no doubt in Regina's mind now that the enemy would follow.

The grey, panicked by the flames, carried her with mind-blowing speed, zigzagging between trees and soldiers of yellow and black. Regina pulled back the reins a notch - it would be a long ride, and they needed to pace themselves well. As she hurtled through the narrow path, helmeted heads turned after her - she had succeeded. The growing racket of hooves on hard-packed ground only confirmed this: they were coming after her.

Regina concentrated all her senses on locating the passage to the entrance to the valley. There was a red gooseberry bush marking the hidden shortcut, but it would be tricky to see it in time at this speed. A club swayed at her, missing her by an inch. Regina weaved her way forward, straining her eyes for the passage. Could she have accidentally passed it already? Her stomach knotted at the thought. Then she saw a familiar-looking sentinel tree looming ahead, and splashes of red on green just beyond.

She tore through the shrubbery at full speed. Branches dug into her skin and ripped at her hair and clothes. Leaves obstructed her view and stung in her eyes. The mare slowed down, startled and protesting at the obstacles, but Regina kept urging her on, and the mare clearly wanted out of the bush anyway.

Angry voices trailed behind them, yelling invectives in some strange tongue. The horse craned at the ever-present greenery and whinnied in alarm. The voices were getting closer. Wood cracked and snapped under heavy clubs. Regina pushed back the rising apprehension and leaned over the horse's neck, patting her lightly, probing the mare's belly with her boots and talking to her in undertones. Slowly, they moved on. The branches thinned and revealed a deer-track. Regina spurred the horse into a trot, trying to avoid overhanging vegetation. Some thorn-covered branch swooped down on her, breaking the skin of her cheek. She barely felt anything.

Then, without warning, the forest came to an end and they were out in the open.

Regina could have whooped with joy - but they hadn't won yet.

Regina jerked the reins, sending the horse to the left, along the wall. At this point, the more distance she could put between herself and her pursuers the better. They would burst out of the the bushes any moment now, and then she would have a small army at her heels. Clubs coming down at her would be a reality soon enough but she'd rather avoid them until absolutely necessary - until coming at her would make these monstrous mercenaries easy targets for the party waiting at the top. Well, hopefully they were ready. Hopefully they had been able to handle the remaining attackers after she had lured the majority away.

A mighty crash followed the riders as they broke through the branches, and a raging battle roar announced their very clear intent: to hunt her down.

Regina was not afraid. The rapid flight of the horse seemed to be giving her wings. The wind painted her cheeks a deeper shade of pink, and strands of hair broke free from her restricting hairdo. Her fingers laced through the horse's silver mane. Her lips twitched, then a chuckle escaped her, and suddenly she broke into laughter - carefree like she hadn't known in ages. This was home.

But it would not do to lose herself entirely in the heat of the moment. _Not too close to the wall, but not too far either. _She needed to keep at a good shooting distance from the others perched on top of the ridge. They were still out of sight, but not for much longer.

Now and again, Regina would look over her shoulder and, with dismay at having her joyful ride disturbed, she'd even slow down once or twice when she thought she was losing them - that they were losing her. It would be most unpleasant if the Witch's henchmen chose to give up the chase and return for the others she'd left behind - everything would have been in vain and the group would no doubt suffer a horrible defeat.

A dozen riders had separated from the rest now and were getting closer,# while the large part of the army lagged behind. Regina searched the ridge above for a sign of a clearing, the glint of a sword or arrows swooping down into the valley. Surely she should be there any time now.

Glancing back again, her heart sank at the sight of a pair of pursuers barely two lengths of a horse behind. She had let them get too close. But the main army was still too far behind - would they leave the pursuit to the advancing handful and turn back? They couldn't afford to let that happen. So instead of launching her mare into full gallop, Regina merely spurred her on a little faster.

Then an arrow whizzed in the air and one of the brutes fell to the ground with a thud. Regina looked up and sighed in relief.

Finally, they had come in line with the clearing, and were now within shooting range. Another bout of arrows rained down into the valley, finding easy targets among the close-packed mass of enemy men. Two of her close followers fell back, wounded. Another three had met their end soon after. Good - someone understood the danger they were posing and was taking them down. Regina started breathing more freely.

However, the two riders closest to her were still gaining on her. Would an arrow find them soon enough or would she have to deal with them herself? In answer, three arrows came rushing through the air. Two hit their target, and the bay at Regina's heels ambled with the rider dangling from the saddle, an arrow stuck into his stomach and another one straight through his heart. The third arrow had missed, though, and a roar of mad rage from close behind made Regina shiver.

Men were falling in dozens, shrinking the army rapidly, but this one pursuer was more dangerous for the moment than all of them put together. There were no more arrows swishing by, however. Clearly they were now too close for the archers to dare chance another shot for fear of hitting Regina instead of the enemy. Her mind searched feverishly for a solution, and it stumbled across an obvious one.

Even as she let go of the reins with one had and made a fist, she knew it was for nothing. Indeed, the weak flare she was able to produce merely tickled her palm but there was barely enough force in it to hurt a fly. Magic seemed out of the question for the day.

And the man was now upon her, his chestnut head to head with her grey. He had lost his heavy club, possibly on purpose to ease his horse of the substantial weight. That meant he now had nothing to swing at her - except his thick, muscled, gauntleted arms. Before she had time to finish that thought, his fist came down at her head, missing her temple by a mere breadth of hair as she ducked. His helmet was knocked off in the wild attempt.

A single eye stared back at her, perched in the middle of the creature's forehead.

It only took one well-aimed blow. The Cyclops roared in pain as blood gushed out of his unseeing eye, and then he was gone, left behind by Regina's dashing mare.

Regina was jubilant. Magic had failed her, which was as alarming as it had been every time before. Ever since she had first learnt to use magic, she felt desperately vulnerable without it. But this time it was different. For the first time in ages she didn't feel magic was her only weapon, her only asset. Now she was able to do something useful without resorting to the thing that had started her on the path of darkness and was making it so difficult to leave that path. Heavens, she had just knocked an enemy out!

The army at her back had shrunk to less than half its original size by now, and she had earned herself no more than a few scratches back in the woods.

With a gleeful laugh, she spurred the mare on.

* * *

Arrows whizzed past Robin's ear while he stood idly with his empty quiver propped against a rock. Next to him, Snow White had just fired the last of her arrows, too. There was nothing to do but wait for the new batch to be brought - he'd already sent the youngest of his men, swift-footed Much the Miller's Son.

Robin's eyes darted back down into the valley.

The Queen and her grey were no more than a smudge of black and white as they dashed along the valley with the yellow-clad pursuers at their heels. Perched on their dark horses, the brutes strangely reminded Robin of bees, and the drumming of hooves could have been the buzz of a swarm.

But now that there was no shooting for him to do, it wasn't the enemy Robin was looking at.

When he'd first noticed the Queen on top of the rearing grey, wielding a giant fireball, his brain had simply shut down for a moment. Then the ball had broken the knot of attackers, and suddenly they'd started to retreat - or so he'd thought, until he caught the grey speeding away straight into the enemy-ridden woods, carrying the Queen with her.

The remaining men had been too demoralised by what they had witnessed to put up much of a fight. Their corpses littered the grass, and with them a handful of their own - all of them Robin's friends, the loss of whom had shrunk the already humble band of Merry Men further. There had been little time to mourn and plenty of wounds to attend to in the short time they'd guessed it would take the Queen to surface in the valley below - hopefully unharmed and with the unsuspecting enemy at her back.

But the wait had been long and nerve-wrecking. Positions had been assigned and quivers filled and set ready for fire, and still there had been no sign of the Queen.

"She'll be fine," Snow had said firmly, and no one had challenged her.

Then the Queen had finally emerged from behind a twist of the valley, with the enemy indeed giving a wild chase.

At Robin's order, arrows had been nocked, drawn and released. He had started by aiming to eliminate the riders gaining on the Queen. Much to his surprise, that had seemed to be Snow's first concern as well, and Granny's crossbow had followed the same pattern. Together, they had taken down all but one brute. Robin's stomach had jolted as the remaining creature had swung his arm at the Queen, and he could already see her hurtling to the ground - but instead, it had been the attacker himself to get the worst of it in just a blink of an eye.

Robin shook his head unwittingly. She certainly was an impressive sight, negotiating the harsh terrain with incredible ease, as if she weren't even aware of obstacles. If there was any fear involved at all, it didn't show.

A new couple of riders had separated from the huddle of the army and began to give chase. Robin flexed his fingers. Where was the boy with the new batch of arrows already?

As if on cue, Much finally arrived, bent under the weight of dozens of quivers. Robin nocked, drew, and released, nocked, drew, and released. A brute fell, and another one. Three more took their place. Robin cursed, nocked, drew, and released. The two remaining riders fell back, and he rejoiced - it seemed they were giving up. Beside him, Snow's arm dropped and she moaned.

Robin followed her terrified stare. His heart sank.

There was a ditch glinting with water on the far left of the valley stretching as far as the eye could see, followed immediately by a muddy uphill bank with a rock wall on top and an abrupt drop shortly afterwards - and the Queen was heading straight towards it. Could she not be aware of the obstacle yet? Was she actually going to try and jump across? Was such a feat even possible?

Arrows were no longer raining down into the valley. Everyone had ceased shooting. Belle's mouth hung open, and Snow kept muttering something under her breath. Everyone else merely stood huddled on the edge of the ridge, watching in awe as the scene unfolded below.

The grey tore forward without a sign of hesitation. Three yellow dots shot forward in pursuit. If the Queen were to fall luckily enough to survive, they would collect her - and make sure she didn't live. Robin chased the thought away. He glanced at Snow, whose face was now rearranged into a stubborn look of blind faith.

The Queen approached the ditch at a neck-breaking speed. She must have seen it by now. As a result of the long and tiring dash, the horse had gotten longer in her gallop. That wasn't a good thing before such a sequence of obstacles. Just as the worry nestled itself into Robin's mind, the Queen pulled at the reins and the horse bunched her canter together. Just in time, too, for now the ditch was right in front of them. Robin held his breath.

The grey sprang, soared over the wet ditch, and landed on the narrow grassy bank in a single leap.

There was a collective gasp up on the ridge that Robin barely noticed - this was far from over. The hind toes of the mare had barely touched the very edge of the bank when the front legs rose up in the air again and over the rough stone wall. The horse bounced off the fence and landed just beyond.

Now the Queen would have noticed the drop - or so Robin prayed. He caught himself wishing with all his heart they had enough left in them to master this last but no less dangerous hurdle. Anything could go wrong - the Queen might see it too late, be too slow to react, or the horse might panic and shy back at the prospect of a blind leap into thin air.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as the grey rose up in the air again. Simultaneously, the Queen lifted herself off the saddle, leaning slightly forward. As they reached the peak of the jump and began to descend, she sank back down into the saddle and leaned back, balancing herself against the impact. She slipped the reins, allowing the horse freedom to stretch its neck forward. Globs of grass flew from the horse's hoof as it hit the ground with the Queen perfectly upright and firm in the saddle.

A joyful whoop went up, fists punched the air victoriously, and someone laughed.

Robin felt a rock fall off his chest but he kept his eyes down, anxious for the Witch's men's reaction.

The Queen's success seemed to boost the courage - or foolhardiness - of a dozen yellow-shirts, who now approached the obstacle at a ridiculously fast pace.

There was no way they could make it - they were abysmal riders blinded by hubris. Indeed, what followed was a tangle of limbs as arms, legs, and even necks broke on various parts of the obstacle. Out of a dozen men, only three made it through, and even those only just - one got through the ditch and the bounce but toppled forward upon landing the drop fence, the other two scrambled through the bounce and the drop fence on arms and knees. Each nursing at least a bruised arm or leg, they followed the unaffected Queen and her grey at a jog, leaving their maimed or rebelling horses behind.

Meanwhile, the grey had carried the Queen further away from them, until they reached the end of the valley and disappeared into the trees.

A flight of arrows went up and into the tarrying crowd of yellow and black. The three lucky pursuers beyond the ditch were now out of range - Robin had learnt that the hard way after releasing a dozen arrows in their direction and coming short every time. The rest of the army, decimated and demoralised by heavy losses, swerved and rode away along the ditch to find another way across.

"Let them go," Charming said, "they're finished anyway, they're no threat to anyone now."

"At least until the Witch raises a new force," one of the dwarfs said grumpily as they watched the last of the crushed army disappear on the horizon.

But what about the handful that had managed to cross after the Queen? She still was not safe. And there was nothing they could do about it.

* * *

Night had fallen and still there was no sign of her.

"Who knows what the way back is like," Charming reasoned with a distraught Snow White for the hundredth time. "She probably just decided to find a place to stay the night and return here by daylight."

"She's a tough woman, Regina," Granny growled drowsily with the crossbow hugged to her side. "And she's one heck of a rider, too."

Regina. So Robin knew the Queen's name now - she had never bothered to introduce herself as anything other than the Queen, but Robin had heard everyone else refer to her by the name lately. It suited her well, though the actual meaning was somewhat - well, peculiar under the circumstances.

Regina was indeed a great rider, one of the best Robin had ever laid eyes on - if not the best. That had been a stupendous reveal, and not only for Robin. Only Snow White had been unsurprised, and Charming had appeared to have been vaguely aware as well, but the rest of them had all marvelled at the brilliant piece of horsemanship they had witnessed. They still marvelled, as it was.

"I would never have made it," Belle spoke from the shadows. "That ride. It was foolish of me to think I could."

"No one else would probably have made it," Mulan admitted in all fairness. "That jump was...truly admirable."

"There are enemies out there," Snow sighed, "three that we know of, and who knows how many more that we don't."

Robin chose to avoid Snow's look. He shared her concern - the forest was treacherous with potential enemies lurking in the shadows, and skilled rider that Regina was, that might not be enough to escape this time.

"So, I hear you're a bard of sorts," Charming turned to Alan-a-Dale, who was in fact a minstrel. "Perhaps you could sing for us?"

Alan struck the strings of his lute and commenced to sing a song of chivalrous love.

Charming kept his eyes on Snow, and Robin wondered if he had initiated a change of topic purely for his wife's sake. Snow had seemed genuinely upset at Regina's prolonged absence. Yet they had once been mortal enemies. What a curious relationship the two women seemed to have. From all the small clues he had gathered, Robin guessed their history had to be as fascinating as it was complicated.

He left the fire to get a fresh wineskin of water and was surprised to be joined by none other than Snow just a moment later.

"What do you think? Will she be alright out there?" she asked straight-out in a tone that had aimed at casualness but fell short.

Robin didn't see the point of false assurances, so he gave an honest answer. "I hope so. Granny Lucas is right, the Queen isn't foiled easily."

"I should know that," she said with a smile that, to his surprise, contained some actual good-humour despite the sad glint in her eyes.

Curiosity got the best of him. "You don't seem like sworn enemies to me," he probed.

"Oh, well, we..." Snow hesitated, looking into the distance. "I don't really know what we are right now. Regina is... It's complicated. We've been working together recently," she said and shook her head as Robin offered her water. "It's not been easy, and heaven knows sometimes we've been in each other's hair - literally, at one point." She actually chuckled at that. The mental image he was getting made Robin smirk. "But we're trying, I guess," she shrugged. Then, having changed her mind, she reached for the wineskin.

"Well, it seems to be going quite well," Robin assured her. Then he added with a lopsided smile: "You certainly seem friendlier than the Queen and I have been - I guess we might have started off on the wrong foot." He hadn't expected for it to come across so despondent, and now wondered why that was.

Snow gave him a searching look, and seemed to consider for a moment. "She's difficult like that," she nodded eventually, "but she's also capable of great kindness. You must understand she's very unhappy - especially now, after what happened, after losing her-"

Robin must have looked as puzzled as he felt because Snow stopped mid-sentence and shrank back in alarm.

"You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"About...oh. Oh my," Snow stuttered. "I thought she told you. But of course she wouldn't have. Robin, I wish I could - maybe I could - but no."

He didn't quite understand the inner fight she seemed to have landed herself in but waited, hoping for at least some kind of explanation.

"No, I can't," she said with more resolve this time. "Robin," she besought him instead, "just be patient with her. She can be a handful, but... I think you should-" Snow glanced at him and continued with a slight smile, "we should all give her a chance."

* * *

Robin awoke from his light slumber. Dawn was painting the horizon a pale pink but the clearing was still just an assembly of shadows moving around as Friar Tuck was handing out breakfast. It had been agreed the previous night that they would set off at daybreak in search for Regina. The time had almost come.

Hook was polishing the article of the same name, while Charming sharpened his sword with a whetstone. Mulan was shaking a yawning Belle awake. Snow, on the other hand, had probably not slept a wink judging by the way her eyes were drooping. His Merry Men were good to go, though, and were loading the last items onto the two horses they still possessed.

And just when everything was ready for departure, the overhanging branches of the giant sentinel flagging the path parted, and through walked Regina leading the grey by the reins.

She was slightly dishevelled and sported a few scratches but otherwise looked as regal as ever.

All previous buzz had died out and the clearing went dead silent.

"So much for a warm welcome," Regina said.

It was nothing if not sarcastic, and Robin's spirits lifted at the familiarity of her voice. At the same time he realised everyone was still gaping at her unashamedly.

Then Snow made a sudden move, and next moment she was throwing her arms around Regina, who seemed entirely too shocked to even protest at first. As she was locked in the embrace, however, a sharp cry escaped her, and Snow sprang back in alarm.

"Are you injured?"

Regina had clutched her shoulder on instinct but rapidly removed her hand now.

"I'm fine," she retorted with unnecessary abruptness. "Although I would certainly not say no to breakfast."

Regina's bluntness seemed to finally break the charm: suddenly all eyes were eager to look anywhere but the Queen's direction. Tuck offered her an entire loaf of bread and a tankard of ale, the latter of which Regina simply shrugged off. Someone had bolstered a log for her to sit on and Alan offered his cape in the morning chill, which Regina refused just as poignantly as she had done with the ale or any sort of treatment of her injury - because Robin was sure there was one, if not more. He also had an inkling Alan would soon be gracing them all with songs about Rhiannon the Reborn, or something along those lines. Snow had nodded off resting against a tree. Well, they were in no hurry for the moment.

Further off, Little John was tending to the grey Regina had led rather than ridden back. That gave Robin an idea. He waved John away as discreetly as possible, waited for Regina to finish eating, then asked her to show him what injuries the horse had suffered. To make sure he wouldn't be rejected, he suggested to meet by a nearby stream, where he could wash and bandage her - suggesting the horse, of course, even though he had something else in mind, too.

* * *

"You want me to what?" her voice rose at the thief's outrageous request.

Regina had refused to listen to her gut, and now she was paying for it.

She had agreed, very reluctantly, to meet Robin Hood by the stream after breakfast, only because she wanted to make sure the poor horse, battered and exhausted, would be properly tended. She hadn't slept three hours at night, and out of that not an hour in a row, and desired no more than a piece of hard ground and a coarse blanket. Instead, she was stuck here with him.

The man seemed utterly unfazed by her aggressive tone.

"Look," he said and continued to wash down the trembling grey in the stream, standing up to his calves in cold water, "either keep it on or take it off, just as long as I'm able to treat your wound."

Regina placed her hand on the mare's nostrils and stroked her lightly. The animal was still showing signs of stress when all she deserved was plenty of rest and good food. But first her bruises had to be tended to.

"I don't need you to do that for me," she said coldly, whereas in fact her blood was boiling. Sometimes her own self-restraint startled her - perhaps because so often she would spiral completely out of control. "I can heal myself with magic."

"But you haven't," he said. The man was not even looking at her, and his absolute calm unnerved her. Hers was fake but his seemed real - how could she contend with that?

"It's nothing," she tried again.

"Alright," he said without a hint of passion.

Was he really giving up so easily? She could hardly believe it, and felt her anger flare quite irrationally. Wasn't this what she'd been trying to achieve?

"Then why don't you help me out here?" he gestured at a particularly nasty bruise around the mare's knee.

Regina's sense told her not to but, like so often, she dismissed the thought and reached to grasp the horse by the leg. A sharp stab of pain jolted through her and she staggered. It was all she could do not to yelp and keep herself from losing balance and crashing into the water.

He gave her a quick glance but made no move to help her. What could one expect from an arrogant bandit anyway?

"It's going to get worse," he had the nerve to say, putting a stretch of cloth over the horse's wound. It turned out he could manage perfectly well by himself. "I guess it already has, hasn't it?" he turned to her abruptly, catching her off-guard.

Regina whipped around to hide her face from those prying eyes. She said nothing, resolved at first to ignore him, to simply walk away. But her shoulder hurt, and it hurt bad - worse than it had the day before, worse even than earlier that morning. Damn him for being right about this, too. This was going to be more humiliating than accepting a cup of tea.

As she spread her heavily stricken coat on a rock and sat on it, she couldn't help watching his calm, confident movements as he continued to wash and bandage the mare. The horse seemed to have warmed up to him, even though it came from Charming's stables, not his. Horses generally had good instincts when it came to people. Well, it's not like Hood was about to hurt it, so that was accurate so far.

Sitting there with only a black strapless corset on, waiting for him to kindly pay her attention, felt demeaning and unnerving, and she had half a mind to rise and leave. She was deep in thought trying to come up with an adequately scathing remark in lieu of a farewell when he finished with the horse and turned to her.

Regina's face rearranged into a defiant expression, but the man's features also changed for a brief moment. She was well aware she probably looked alluring even with bits of twigs in her hair and dust on her skin, but she felt everything but beautiful at that moment. Did he find her attractive or just pathetic?

The urgency with which he averted his eyes didn't tell her much.

Robin Hood rummaged in a bag with his back to her. "So now the secret's out, perhaps you would care to share how you became such a skilful rider."

"Did Snow White tell you that?" she spat with contempt without a second thought.

Whether he found the accusation strange or merely thought she had spoken out of malice, he didn't respond to the jibe. "She didn't need to. We saw it with our own eyes."

"I prefer not to be stared at." Regina looked away as Robin set down beside her a flask, a patch of cotton, and new batch of linen bandages.

Robin looked at her strangely, as though he had some kind of a reason to not believe her. Eventually he seemed to decide to let it go.

"They mean no ill," he said as he dipped the cotton patch into the contents of the flask. "Quite the contrary – everyone's rather impressed."

The fact that it felt like balm for her soul was deeply disturbing. "Even you?" she mocked. But in reality she only wished she'd feel the contempt she was working so hard to wake.

"Especially me," he glanced at her - she hadn't expected that, and now their eyes met, and it got warm. "I had no idea you were such an accomplished rider."

Regina searched for something in that piercing look - ridicule, accusation, anger - something familiar. She found nothing, and her eyes dropped to the ground.

"You don't know me," she said and heard the faintest hitch in her own voice. It terrified her.

"You're right. I don't." He was actually admitting it. That was new. "Perhaps that's not entirely my fault though."

She raised an eyebrow.

Robin was busy cleaning the nasty bruise at her shoulder now and didn't respond for a while. The angry black-and-purple bruise was a result of the combined effort of a gnarled branch, a jutting out rock, and an incredibly stubborn Regina, who had refused to search for another way and insisted on crashing through all obstacles - but she most certainly wasn't going to tell him that. There was no open wound, and the disinfectant didn't burn at all. The slightest touch, however, any kind of contact with the livid mark, was enough to put her in agony. So why wasn't she feeling anything at the light dabs of cotton this...insufferable man was covering the skin in?

"You don't seem to be exactly willing to let people get to know you," he said eventually with the most fleeting of glances, but she still felt his eyes burning holes into her.

A sudden weariness overcame her. "Why would I?" she asked reproachfully. "People hardly seem to care anyway. They're perfectly happy with their own idea of who I am."

"I have to agree. People indeed fail to see beneath the surface at times. We like to put labels on others. Evil Queen." Regina fought back a shudder. Surely this was provocation. What was he trying to do? "Thief." He fixed her with his eyes. "Bandit."

She felt the sting in his words. The man had a nerve. Yet he also had a point. How infuriating. Regina strove to dismiss a pang of guilt. It was new and very unpleasant, and she took up the first weapon she found at hand - she didn't have to search far.

"Is that what your men were doing when they thought I was out of earshot - calling me names? I'm not blind." She had heard them whispering behind her back. It was always the same. People were suspicious, gossiped, and judged. Even when she did nothing to deserve dismissal it would always be the same.

Much to her dismay and puzzlement, he chuckled, and a wide smile remained on his face.

"Ah, that. Now that is an interesting story."

He had these dimples in his cheeks when he smiled like that. They were incredibly irritating.

Robin pushed the open flask into her hands and reached for the bandage, but he kept her eyes on her face as he said: "There seems to be a rumour going round according to which Rhiannon, the great queen and horse goddess of old legend, paid us a visit yesterday."

"That's ridiculous." An ancient horse goddess who also happened to be a queen come down to earth? If he thought he could pull her leg like this, he was mistaken. But he didn't seem to be mocking her. She just didn't know what to think of this man.

"But kind of nice?" he inquired.

Regina felt his eyes on her even as she stared into the green twilight. He had started fixing the bruise with the strip of linen, and she had to set her teeth to keep herself from flinching or crying out in pain.

"Mostly ridiculous," she said through gritted teeth.

He grinned from ear to ear. "So you admit there's a bit of nice."

She refused to say another word - supposedly due to the anguish of pain, when in fact she had run out of arguments momentarily. This horrible...person was able to keep up with her sharp tongue and wind her up by staying impossibly calm, yet so clearly not one bit hostile that every time she wanted to lash out she knew she would be making an utter fool of herself. So she resolved to say as little as possible, hoping he would finish soon.

After the shoulder, however, he proceeded to look at her face. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and came to rest just beneath her hairline.

"Talking might help take your mind off the pain."

"I'm not in pain." It hurt like hell and her head started pounding again. Why couldn't the wretched man leave her alone already?

"I had an accident as a child," he said after a while.

Instead of pressuring her to talk, he had decided to offer up something about himself. Despite herself, Regina caught herself listening, hardly aware of the cool sensation of the thin cream left behind by his fingertips.

"I was run down by a carriage," Robin continued. "It took me ages to pluck up the courage to mount a horse after that. I'm glad I did, though. They're magnificent creatures, independent yet loyal."

That resonated within her deeply.

"I was four when I got my first pony. When I first fell off, my father told me the only way to defeat fear is to face it."

"A clever man."

"One of his best moments," Regina said with a smile that died on her lips unformed at the sense of loss. She quickly redirected her thoughts. "I loved everything about riding," she reminisced. "The wind in my face, the world just rushing by, the freedom… I spent my happiest times around horses."

"Why the past tense?" Robin asked quietly.

"I hadn't been on horseback for years. Not since…" Regina swallowed. "...I'd cast the curse."

"Are there no stables in your world?"

No, she didn't want to go down this road. Not now, not with him, not at all.

Robin was watching her, and she wanted to turn away from those eyes because maybe, just maybe, they were seeing too much, too well. Or maybe not - he seemed lost, confused by her unaccountable distress.

Then he turned to examine the long gash in her cheek.

"This might burn a little."

She hissed at the contact of alcohol with the half-closed scratch.

He retracted his arm at the sound. "I'm truly sorry. I'm being as gentle as I can."

"I'm fine," she shot back.

She wouldn't let him see her vulnerable, even though that was what she felt - and more so with every time his fingers brushed her skin as he was tending to the angry red line.

At the repentant look on his face, she added before she could stop herself: "I'm fine." This time there was no edge t her voice - the words tumbled out reassuring, almost gentle.

"It's just a scratch," Robin said with a finishing touch. "It should leave no trace. I'm glad you didn't come to any serious harm."

He went to return the flask into the bag and dispose of the cotton patch. Regina ran her fingers over her face. Somehow she still felt his touch linger, even though it wasn't really there. All the same, she breathed more freely now that it was over, and her spirits lifted.

"It seems your reputation as a good shot is not entirely unfounded," she said.

Robin turned. "Are my ears deceiving me? Was that a compliment?"

She didn't miss the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Let's not get carried away," she grinned. "I'm merely giving credit where credit is due."

"So am I." The twinkle was gone and he approached her again. "You rode beautifully, but there's more than that. You saved lives today."

She realised she wasn't ready for this as soon as he said it. Not now, anyway. Perhaps it was true, perhaps she deserved some recognition of what she had done - but for some reason, she couldn't handle it right now.

"Make no mistake," she said softly, "I sure won't make one…not again."

She might have been foolish enough to think a few good deeds could turn the tide, but she'd been cured of that absurd notion in Storybrooke. She remembered only too well how a good deed was equally likely to gain indifference as appreciation - as far as she was concerned one could never know which it would be. Even with everyone acting civil now, she was half-prepared for things to go back to animosity any moment.

"I'm still the Evil Queen."

"You weren't her today." Robin pierced her with those eyes again and she fought against it with all her might. "Perhaps you don't need to be her tomorrow, either. Perhaps in time you wouldn't even miss her anymore."

Did he really imagine it was so easy? Did he imagine she hadn't thought about that, that she hadn't tried it? Who was he to talk to her like this anyway? What did he know?

"Stop," she said icily. "I am the Evil Queen."

Those startling blue eyes were giving her a close look, one that seemed to reach the depths of her soul, no matter how hard a look she was giving him, or how tightly pursed her lips were, or that she had closed her face to all emotion other than contempt and coolness. He saw right through her.

To her surprise, and perhaps the tiniest grain of disappointment, he chose not to pursue the topic.

"As you say, Your Majesty," he said simply.

Without further ado, he went to get the calmly grazing grey mare and led her along the path to camp. Before the greenery swallowed him, he turned back to her again:

"If you would tell Regina it was an honour to make her acquaintance today. I would be pleased to see her again."

He had never called her by her first name before. Out of all the things he'd said, that was the thing that stood out the most.


	8. Scaling the Walls

_Guys, this one's turned out rather angsty, but there are bits of fluff in between. Thanks for your ongoing support!_

* * *

One would think feet would get used to travelling miles a day. One would think, but as far as Regina could tell this wasn't the case - at least not yet. She wished they had claimed a pair of horses - apart from the footache, she had grown fond of the valiant grey. But the few horses the group had were more needed elsewhere.

Regina hadn't really expected to find herself on the road again so soon, nor with just Robin Hood for company. The Charmings could always be counted on to butt in, even in less justifiable situations, and their heated point that a larger force should be launched against the Witch had at first been met with general agreement. Until Robin had stepped up with counterarguments, stressing the Witch's forces were operating outside of the Dark Palace now. Snow and Mulan had been the first to catch on, arguing that however scattered the population of the Enchanted Forest, they needed to save what could still be saved after the Curse, the ogres, and most recently the Witch.

Maps had been drawn in the sand, many a discussion had ensued, and eventually it had been decided that Regina and Robin would continue their quest to free the captured children alone. The Merry Men, along with the dwarfs, who knew the forest well, would scout and track enemy movement, while the rest of the group headed by the Charmings would press for Aurora and Phillip's palace, seeking their help to organise a force to strike down this vicious Witch.

Robin had fallen back and was now examining the ground at the fork in the road they had just arrived at. He'd do that once in a while, which was convenient for Regina to rest a little. Mostly he'd just shake his head to suggest he found nothing of note and they'd carry on, but this time he took a good while crouched over the dirt path, and eventually rose with a frown.

"Did you find anything?"

Talking to him had become easier and more difficult at the same time now that he'd seen a more vulnerable side to her. All the same, she was glad for the change in atmosphere, and the prolonged silences - despite the easing of tension she still did not feel chatty - weren't oppressive in character as they had been before.

He didn't meet her eye but scanned the shrubbery thoroughly instead.

"I'm not sure," he mumbled. "We'd better be on our guard."

The forest thickened, and what little light managed to get through the dense vegetation was painting everything green. It became hard to proceed on the narrow, barely visible path now, and thorns and branches enveloped them from all sides. Despite the forewarning, however, they met no one and nothing for the upcoming miles.

"Someone's been here," Robin spoke under his breath just as her vigilance had begun to waver. She could barely hear him for the rustle of leaves and the crunch of their steps as he added: "Stay close."

his words irked her a little - it wasn't as though she was about to wander off. She could take care of herself, and definitely wasn't stupid enough to give them away anyway.

After another half a mile of wading through unyielding overgrowth, the path broadened a notch, even though they were still treading on weeds and vines. Robin sniffed. Then Regina smelled it, too: a waft of sickly sweet, pungent air growing ever thicker. The smell became more oppressive with each new step, and worry began to creep into her heart. The disgusted face of Little John swam before her eyes briefly.

Robin halted so abruptly Regina could barely stop herself from crashing into him. He let out a sharp gasp. A fine dust invaded her nostrils and choked her throat, and a fleeting moment of dread later she chanced a peek over Robin's shoulder. The sight made her skin crawl.

They had come upon a small clearing hidden in the heart of the forest with a dozen or so hovels crammed onto it - except they weren't there anymore. What had once been a place of retreat now lay in ruin. Blackened remnants of chipped wood stuck out from the charred grass at odd places. Hardly a wall remained standing, hardly a beam intact. A blanket of ashes covered the lifeless hamlet gone to eternal rest.

An ash particle floated on the wind and landed on Regina's forearm, cool and wrinkled.

"Wh- where is everyone?" she whispered.

There were no bodies as far as she could tell but perhaps she just didn't really want to see. There had been another village once, a bigger, more prosperous one, reduced to ashes and a pile of corpses lying sprawled one across another... Robin tore his gaze from the desolation before them and turned to her. Maybe it was her voice or her face that betrayed her, or probably both - either way, Robin made a hasty reply.

"There was no one," he said softly with his eyes fixed on her. "I know the place. It had been abandoned for ages.

Thank heavens. A few empty, dilapidated shacks were little casualty. It was time to pull herself together.

"Then why did she have it burned down?" she asked, and heard her voice return back to normal with a sense of accomplishment.

"I don't know," he said, surveying the ruins. "A warning, maybe." He stepped onto the clearing, immediately stirring up a cloud of fine black powder. "Or the disgruntled remnants of a defeated army unleashing their anger."

Regina followed, trying to tread carefully. There was something unholy about disturbing the peace of this place, even though they had only been empty buildings. As they made their way through the rubble, Regina recognised a household item here and there: a melted tin cup, a smashed mirror, the partially consumed back of a rough-hewn chair. Twisted blades of tools disfigured by immense heat lay in piles of shapeless metal.

She struggled to look forward, to direct her thoughts elsewhere. There was no point tarrying. They had a mission to fulfil.

"We'll cross the borders soon," she said. "Then we'll be in the Witch's domain." Her kingdom. Somehow, Regina couldn't bring herself to say it. It had been hers once, but now it felt alien - in many ways, it always had.

Robin froze mid-step, and so did she. The birdsong had come to an abrupt end. Everything was calm - too calm.

* * *

Endless moments passed with the two of them lying in wait behind a tumbledown wall - what remained of the only remotely well-preserved one. Not a leaf stirred. The absolute silence was a strain on Robin's ears, and no matter how hard he strained his eyes, he couldn't penetrate the surrounding thicket.

He sensed movement to his left.

"Regina," he warned, putting an arm out to stop her. "Something's not right."

Regina nodded, but slipped past him anyway. Robin pushed back a sigh: could anyone ever be so incredibly stubborn? He nocked an arrow and stepped out after her, holding his bow at the ready. Dusk was descending upon them, and Regina's dark hair and garments stood out against the settling shade.

The dogwood bush quivered. Robin drew the bow.

"Regina." He needed her to get out of the arrow's way, and he hoped she'd understand and, for once, not protest. She stepped aside, and Robin drew level with her. The bush quivered again. A rustle came from behind them, and he sensed Regina whip around. The flicker of light at the corner of his eye told him she was ready and wielding her trusty weapon - the magic fireball. But ready for what, exactly?

The answer came almost immediately. A crack of wood later, Robin found himself looking into the bloodshot eyes of an overgrown beast of brownish-grey with a bushy tail and a foaming mouth.

The wolf bared its teeth at him just as another two emerged at his side. They wagged their tails in excitement of the forthcoming clash, growling in chorus. Leaves rustled and Robin saw even more pairs of eyes glaring at him. There was no time to lose - the pack wanted blood, and they were to be their prey.

Well, not if Robin had anything to say about it.

He took aim and released the arrow, and the wolf fell in a brownish-grey heap. A yelp from behind told him Regina didn't idle about either.

"Save your energy for later," he called as he nocked another arrow. "Just keep them away from us while I take them down." Who knew what other dangers still lay ahead - situations where they might not be able to do without magic. This time he believed they could handle the wolves without it.

Somewhat to his surprise, Regina concurred. Robin nocked, drew, aimed, and released, then repeated the process again and again. It was like the valley again, except this time they were in a much less favourable position. But the wolves were falling one after the other, lifeless heaps with arrows through their necks and blood seeping into their shaggy coats.

A blow to the back of his knee threw Robin off-balance. He turned to look and felt a bloodied arrow-shaft grazing his thigh. He dropped the bow and, grabbing the arrow he had just been about to loose with both hands, he stabbed the tenacious beast with all his strength, plunging the arrow through its open snout right up to the feathers. He hissed in pain as he felt teeth tearing his flesh, but he knew it was only a flesh wound. The wolf crumbled at his feet with one eye staring vacantly into space. A sickening smell of charred meat rose in the air as it lay with its burn marks exposed.

Robin picked up his bow and retrieved another arrow. Everything was quiet, except for his own laboured breathing, and Regina's.

Thirteen wolves now lay dead upon the ash-covered ground, their blood-soaked coats almost blending in with the greyness of the charred clearing.

Then a fourteenth bounded out from behind the trees. Robin's arrow missed it by an inch as the wolf leapt into the air and knocked Regina to the ground, pinning her down with its front paws and baring its teeth in threat. Robin drew his sword and launched forward, praying he wouldn't be too late, praying the beast would not tear Regina's throat out before he even got there. He raised his arm and swung the sword, ready to deliver a fatal blow, when he heard Regina's startled cry.

"Stop!"

The wolf wasn't hurting her - yet - but was snarling mere inches from Regina's face. It had to be fright speaking - surely Regina couldn't have meant him. But in that brief moment of hesitation, the wolf turned and growled at Robin.

Regina scrambled backwards, and Robin raised the sword again.

"No, stop!" Regina yelled, knocking the sword out of his hand with an invisible blast of magic. "Both of you!"

The wolf glowered at Robin with alert yellow eyes. Robin took a step back and his hand flew to his belt. He still had a dagger and was ready to use it. Then the wolf's eyes darted to Regina, and Robin followed its gaze. Regina lashing out was what he expected, and Regina cowering in fright, even, would have been at least understandable - but the way the scene unfolded was utterly bizarre.

We don't Regina rose and held her arms out to the wolf. "Now, relax, and nobody need get hurt, Ruby," she addressed the beast. "It's you, isn't it?"

The wolf tilted its head and pricked its ears. To Robin's utter astonishment, it gave a small whine.

"Your hood - where is it?" Regina asked, brandishing a strip of bright red cloth. "It's not wolfstime now, you shouldn't be like this anyway." The wolf's tail clamped down until it eventually rested between its hind legs. Recognition flashed through Regina's eyes, and anger took its place. "It was the Witch, wasn't it?"

The wolf whined again, the sound smoothly going over into a wail that sounded almost human. What the hell was happening here? Could the wolf understand? It seemed as though Regina was actually having a conversation with the animal, as crazy as that sounded even just in his mind.

"I can try a counter-curse," Regina said after a moment's consideration, "but you must be compliant."

The wolf backed away, snapping its teeth at her. Robin's grip on the dagger tightened. But the look Regina threw him stopped him from going any further.

"Look, Miss Lucas - Ruby," she sighed, approaching the wolf "I know we haven't been exactly friendly, but it seems we're on the same side now." The wolf made no further threats, but took another step back from her all the same. A bead of sweat trickled down Robin's face. Regina swallowed and her face softened. "Besides, your grandmother is worried sick about you."

Grandmother? Could this possibly mean...? No, surely not. Unless...

The wolf whimpered, bowed its head, and made a tentative move towards her. Robin felt a flash of relief - Regina had succeeded in luring the wolf closer again. Then worry returned with renewed intensity - they were dangerously close, and if anything went wrong...

Regina seemed to search her mind for a while, then slowly raised her hand and drew an elaborate pattern in the air. Where her fingers had traced the dark, a faint glow materialised, a deep crimson that slowly spread, until it engulfed the shaking wolf completely. For a moment, the wolf was out of sight; then the glow began to fade.

The wolf was gone. The shape of a woman had taken its place, crouching on the ground. What sorcery was this? The blade in his hand felt strangely useless now, and he looked to Regina. She seemed to have an inkling of what was happening, whereas he had none. But she wasn't looking his way. Instead, she stepped to the woman and, after a moment's hesitation, offered a hand to help her up. The woman appeared equally hesitant to accept it, but she did eventually, and stood before them rubbing her forehead.

"Thanks," she muttered to Regina.

Regina's eyes narrowed, then she nodded.

Robin couldn't take it any longer - words flew out of his mouth while his brain struggled for understanding.

"What is going on here? How did- how did the Witch do this? How did you-?" he addressed Regina.

"I'm a werewolf," the woman said wearily. Her long hair hung limp and tangled and her face looked gaunt. A starved werewolf, Robin thought stupidly. "But like Regina said, I'm only supposed to turn at full moon."

"Why would the Witch care to change that?" Regina cut in.

The woman - Ruby - shook her head. "Can't say. This pack," she looked at the dead monsters scattered across the clearing, "was part of her army. As for me..." she shrugged, "maybe she thought it'd be amusing to set me against my own." A triumphant glint appeared in her tired eyes, and she lifted her head. "She didn't know I'd learnt to control the wolf though."

"Good for you," Robin said, scratching his head, before Regina could answer, "but why on earth would you attack us then?"

"I panicked," said Ruby. She glanced at Regina and rubbed her hands as she continued. "Maybe it's the clothes - you look...well, you know," she said, and Robin thought she seemed a little ashamed and maybe a tad remorseful. Then her face brightened a little. "You've talked to Granny?" she entreated hopefully. "Is she alright? And Snow? Everyone?"

Regina smiled a half-smile. "All fine. You'll find them in Aurora and Phillip's palace. Can you get there?"

Robin understood the doubtful note in Regina's voice - Ruby looked exhausted and unnerved, perhaps she wasn't fit for that kind of travel, especially on her own.

"Sure," she nodded confidently. "My wolf senses will guide me and help me steer clear of enemies." She eyed Robin and Regina with open curiosity. "What are you two up to?"

"Rescuing my son," Robin said. "Have you seen him by any chance?" If she had been cursed by the Witch to recruit for her army, Ruby might know a thing or two they'd find useful.

"Oh, he must be one of the children that bitch's been abducting," Ruby said, and Robin's hopes rose. The next words were all the more crushing, though. "No, sorry. I was with the pack, never actually at the palace. I don't really have any information to help y-" she halted and stared ahead for a moment. "Wait, maybe I do have something. We found a half-finished carcass in the woods last night with teeth marks in it unlike any animal I know."

"The Cyclopes?" Regina looked at Robin.

"Could be," he nodded.

"You could track them down - I assume you read tracks - and interrogate the leader," Ruby suggested.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Robin agreed. They needed inside information, and the sooner the better. The more details, the more effective their assault was going to be.

"Good luck, then," Ruby said to them both.

"You, too," Robin replied.

"Get there safe," Regina called after her. The two women exchanged one more look, then Ruby disappeared between the trees.

* * *

"All patched up," Regina said as she fixed the bandage over Robin's calf in place. She had done a lousy job and she knew it. "I could have done much better with magic."

"You did just fine," he assured her with a grin. She couldn't help but think he was just saying that to avoid further talk of magic. He seemed to hate it more than anyone else she'd met - perhaps, ironically, with the exception of herself as a child.

"Thank you," he added, and the gladness at that unnerved her. What was she even doing there?

The wineskin was close at hand, so she grabbed it even though she had no need of it, and because it would have looked foolish otherwise, she took a swig.

Robin took a bite of the pear he had left of his supper, and spat out a seed. Regina couldn't help but smirk.

"You're perfectly capable of felling thirteen wolves, but cannot handle a fruit seed?" she teased.

Robin smiled but didn't look at her. He gazed at the fruit in his hand with eyes glazed over by emotion, and she couldn't for the life of her fathom what had brought that about. Besides, the display made her uneasy - she didn't have much experience in comforting people, at least not in a long time. All the same, when he spoke all of a sudden, she couldn't but strain her ears, eager to hear every word.

"It's a thing," he said with a crooked smile, "that Roland and I have. See, if you eat the seeds, you'll grow a tree in your stomach."

"That is old," Regina objected in a would-be taunt, wary of the relentless assaults of emotion at his simple yet so touching story.

Robin chuckled. "Try to tell him that. He insists that I spit every single one out, and the few times I tried to convince him otherwise he seemed in such distress I finally gave up. I'm so used to it now that I do it even when he's not around."

Henry used to do that, although not as obsessively as Roland seemed to. No. She won't, she can't go there.

"What's it like on the road with a small child?"

"I realise it's not ideal for him," he said. He sounded almost regretful, and she felt a pang of guilt at having brought this out in him unintentionally, "even though he seems to enjoy the adventure. But there isn't much in the way of settling down and building something here, just as there had been little opportunity of that back home."

"Where's home?" This was safe ground - he was talking, but the topic wasn't affecting her in a profound way.

"The Sherwood Forest."

"You weren't born an outlaw," she remarked.

Robin raised an eyebrow, amused. "What gave me away?"

"Your speech. Some semblance of manners," Regina shrugged, hiding the smile and feigning scorn.

"Semblance?" he clutched his chest, mock-hurt. "I beg your pardon, milady," he suggested a bow.

He was overdoing it now, far too theatrical for her taste, but other than that she had to admit she appreciated the banter. This was a form of communication she excelled at and felt comfortable with.

"I was considering settling down once - even did for a little while," he said out of the blue, and the look on his face freaked her out because it spoke of seriousness again. Her gut was warning her of some unknown ill, and Regina found herself dreading what was coming next.

"With my wife. She was ill, and I thought it would do her good. Besides, we learnt soon after that there was a baby on the way."

He was talking about Roland's mother. Regina could think of several reasons she wasn't around, none of them good.

Robin continued, far away in mind. "I managed, by resorting to all kinds of desperate deeds, to keep her alive long enough to have Roland. She went soon after...she still had time to give him a name though."

Regina shivered. This might have taken her thoughts off Henry for a bit but the direction it was taking her instead was hardly any less stressful. Had Robin Hood spent many an hour grieving over his lost love's corpse, too? He spoke of her with such fondness... She felt a lump grow in her throat. And he wasn't helping.

"Roland kept me grounded, you know. It's amazing how a child can change you - change everything, in fact. Give you a whole new perspective. Of course I was a clueless parent at first," he grinned, but somehow even that didn't feel any less sad.

This wasn't about her. She knew that, didn't she? The man was talking about him and his son. It had nothing to do with Henry and her, nothing at all.

Who was she kidding?

Regina wished for him to stop but didn't know how to make him without being outright obnoxious. And he seemed to be far from finished.

"I freaked out at the smallest cry," he reminisced, fiddling with a stick of dry firewood absently, "dreading he might be ill like his mother. John was a lot of help - he'd had a bunch of baby sisters. Things get easier after a while, or some don't... You learn from your mistakes, though. Only sometimes the price is somewhat too high."

The insinuation hurt to the core. Suddenly it didn't matter if she were obnoxious - obnoxious actually seemed just right for the situation. But she might have stopped herself yet, if only it hadn't been for those unfortunate words coming up next.

"I should never have let him out of my sight!" Robin punched the log he was sitting on. "Perhaps I would have noticed the signs. They must have been watching him, then snatched him just as he was alone and unprotected for a moment. I feel like I failed him."

If she had only just been able to protect Henry from Greg, and then from Pan, if she had seen the warning signs that Henry wasn't Henry but Pan - what kind of a mother was she not to have recognised that? A mother who had refused the truth for her own selfish need to feel accepted, that's what kind. In the end, Henry had paid for it. They all had paid for it, including Regina. And now there was nothing she could do anymore.

Perhaps it was the onslaught of pain and self-pity. Perhaps it was jealousy of Robin and Roland for still having a chance, as opposed to her own hopeless situation. Perhaps it was all of it, all that she had been keeping bottled up for so long. Either way, all of that emotion thrown into the mixer produced a large cocktail of anger, and Regina lashed out.

"Oh, would you stop wallowing in self-pity," she snarled. "At least you get to get your son back."

Robin's face fell, and hurt concentrate stared out of his unbelieving eyes.

It was like a cold shower, like being doused in icy water. What had she done? He had confided in her, opened himself up to her, revealed the most vulnerable spots, and what had she done? Strike where it hurt most with a ruthlessness the thought of which made her want to just disappear for shame. _Well done, Regina, for ruining everything - again_.

And worst of all, her mortification, or whatever else there was that was wrong with her, made it impossible to apologise - there was no way she could put this right anyway.

So she turned away, pretending it never happened, pretending she didn't care, pretending this was the kind of person she was and who she wanted to be.

* * *

Regina's sudden attack left him completely baffled and deeply wounded. If he thought he could see a shred of remorse in her eyes seconds later, it certainly went as fast as it had come because she never acknowledged having made a mistake. So why had it taken him by surprise anyway? Why had he gone and confided in this woman, whom everyone had dismissed as a monster?

At that point Robin's wounded soul came to odds with the voice in his head - or was it the head? The Queen - Regina - had been, well, not exactly living up to her reputation as the Evil Queen - at least not all the time. She had in fact spent enough time not acting like the infamous, heartless monster hearsay had been making her out to be. It had felt right talking to her about Roland for some reason, and even regarding Marion he had felt a quiet understanding on Regina's part that he had rarely experienced before.

Then something had gone terribly wrong, and Robin just felt at a loss as to the reason. He sure did hope to get Roland back, and she had seemed to sympathise every single time that had come up - even at the Dark Castle, although she had tried to look unconcerned, but he hadn't been entirely fooled. So why the angry outburst now?

Dinner was an awkward affair, filled with heavy silence. Robin would steal an occasional glance at Regina. She picked at her food with little interest and seemed to be far away at one time and painfully aware of his presence at another. Then she set her food aside. She shot him a quick look and turned away again.

Robin kept his eyes fixed on her. He had been right, he was sure now. Her anger had flared temporarily and now she didn't know how to handle it. What was she hiding behind the carefully arranged mask? He 'd been aching to break the silence but felt something was off, there was something hanging in the air that Regina wasn't saying. What could he do to find out?

Regina raised her head with an air of defiance and surveyed him for a good while. What could she be thinking? He could almost feel her scrutinising gaze, and suddenly he felt anxious to pass whatever test she was putting him under. Robin took care to return her gaze with all sincerity and good intent, and hoped it would get across. He could be trusted - he just needed to make her see that.

Regina's fist clenched around a fold of her dress. She fumbled a little and eventually retrieved something small from the hidden pocket. Her fingers trembled as she began to unfold the piece of paper. She didn't look at it, although this appeared to require a lot of restraint, but handed it to him without a word.

Robin stared down at the picture in his hands. The edges were frayed and the paper creased at the folds from the dozens of times it had been folded and unfolded again. She looked different in the picture - not just the hair and garments, but especially the emotion reflected in her features - soft, relaxed and peaceful, almost dreamy. But Robin's eyes were drawn to the dark-haired boy picture-Regina had her arms around. He wore the smile of a happy, content child, and leaned into her embrace with his hands crossed over hers. The realisation tugged at his heart.

"His name is Henry," Regina said at long last with a hitch in her voice she didn't quite manage to control. "He's…"

"Your son." Robin didn't need her confirmation to know it was true. It all made sense now. Regina had a son. And she had had to leave him behind. That was the great loss weighing down on Regina that Snow had been talking about. That was why every mention of Roland had such a prominent effect on her.

"You were separated," Robin said quietly. Regina nodded. "Were you looking for a way back? In the Dark One's books?"

It made perfect sense - he had gone to look there, too, of course, and if Regina needed a portal, well, he didn't know much about those, but one thing he did know was that they were hard to come by. But for his son, he'd always look for a way.

"I…yes. No. I mean- I don't know."

The answer completely threw him. He had expected a simple agreement, and instead everything suggested things were much more complicated - but how?

"Why- what do you mean?" he asked carefully.

"It's not so simple. I cannot…" Her voice wavered. "Even if I found a way to go back, Henry wouldn't remember me," she said miserably.

She was making a monstrous effort to control herself - he knew that posture, shoulders straightened, back stretched, head up high.

"And even if he did," she managed, "it wouldn't matter - I mustn't see him. It's part of the curse that brought us here." Her voice broke again, and it was reduced to little more than a whisper. "I don't know what would happen if I breached it. I'm not risking my son's well-being. Even if it means I will never see him again."

No wonder she lost control once in a while - so would he. Actually, that might not be true. Even just the idea of losing Roland forever was enough to freeze his blood. Who knew what he might do in her place, what such a fate would do to him. He even understood her confused response of earlier - of course it would be her first instinct to look for a way back to her son...but if it held such unforeseeable risks... No wonder she had spurned his absurd bait of palaces and power - what an idiot he had been.

"I'm sorry," he said, because it was true and because to say anything else would have been empty and worthless. To his puzzlement, it seemed to surprise her. Had she been expecting him to retaliate for her misstep before? How could he?

"He's happy," she said hoarsely, and even strove for a smile. It broke his heart. "That's what matters."

"Is his father with him?" he probed gently. The boy - Henry - wouldn't have been left alone in the world, surely. Giving up on her child would have been hard beyond words, and leaving a husband behind, too, perhaps... Well, Robin just didn't like the thought one bit.

The look of confusion on her face didn't answer much.

"His father? No. Emma," she began, "his…mother." It seemed to have cost her all the will-power in the world to get the word out, and she had tripped over it several times before she did.

Something clicked at Emma's name, though.

"Wait… Isn't Neal's son's name Henry?"

The puzzle pieces didn't seem to fit: Neal had mentioned an Emma and a Henry, but they couldn't possibly be the same people - or could they? Either way, it was a remarkable coincidence.

Regina nodded wearily. "Yes. It's…complicated. Emma and Neal are Henry's biological parents. I adopted him as a baby."

"Whoa..." he sighed softly.

That explained a lot. It made him feel for her even more, actually: she had taken an abandoned baby and given him a loving home - because there was no doubt in his mind that this woman loved her son more than anything. The line of thought seemed to be getting the best of her, though, and she seemed to be fighting back tears. Robin reached for something to go on.

"So… Um… you, Emma, and Neal share a son. And - your son is also Snow White's grandson?"

"And Rumplestiltskin's. Yes. One monster of a family tree." The attempted joke was the saddest thing he had seen in a while. She braved a smile but all Robin saw was the suffering etched in her face and the hollowness in her eyes. "Of course now he only remembers Emma - one mother instead of the mess we really are."

"Regina…"

Robin wanted to offer some kind of comfort, but there was nothing he could say to make the pain go away. He rose and sat next to her. She pulled back slightly, her eyes wide with alarm and surprise at his actions, and she searched his face for some answer.

Robin began to fold the picture with the same meticulous care he had seen her treat it with. Regina watched his hands, apparently transfixed. Perhaps she just didn't want to meet his eye. That was fine, too. He took her hand and placed the photo in her palm. Regina tensed at his touch but relaxed a little as he closed her fist over the picture.

Now would be the time to let go, but instead he found himself resting his hand over hers.

Her eyes darted from their hands to his face and back again.

"Good night, Robin," she faltered, and her hand slipped from his light grasp.

Then she was gone, putting the fire between them. She never looked at him as she settled down to sleep.

Robin soon followed, but sleep would not come. He would stare into the dark for a good while, thinking about the Queen and her lost son, haunted by the image of brown-eyed sorrow burnt into his heart.

* * *

She was nowhere to be seen, and nothing was missing. By the look of it, she had neither left nor had there been a robbery.

Robin felt cold creep into his stomach. The Witch. They had entered the kingdom just before striking camp. Perhaps she already knew, perhaps she had come to get Regina, who would be her natural enemy.

Robin fastened his belt with the sword and dagger sheathed and slipped into the trees. He began to walk around the campsite in circles, small at first and growing ever larger, until finally he found a track. There was only one pair of footprints, and they were Regina's. Relief was followed by worry - what was she doing so far out of camp in the dead of night? It was dangerous out there, and she had gone to rest upset. Robin followed her trail without hesitation.

He heard it before he even saw her: heaving, heart-wrenching, uncontrollable sobbing. For a moment he just stood there, mesmerised by her bent back and shaking shoulders, stunned by the dreadful moan rising from the very bottom of her heart. He stepped towards her, ever so quietly, but she couldn't have heard him anyway for the crying, nor could she have seen him because her face was buried in her hands.

Despite all the lightness of the touch, she jumped at the feel of his hand on her shoulder. The terror in her tear-filled eyes made him retract his arm immediately. Maybe he should have spoken first. Maybe it wasn't too late for that yet. But how did one comfort someone in pain so deep, so profound?

"Regina..." he whispered, begging his eyes to speak for him, for words were failing him when he needed them most. So he chose to risk one more attempt. Now that she knew he was there, perhaps she wouldn't flip out at his touch.

Inching closer, Robin made a point of holding her eyes. The rattling sobs had ceased for the moment, and she watched him with fear and fascination merged into one. When he reached for her cheek, she didn't move - indeed, she seemed quite stunned. Almost there... His finger ran across her cheek, brushing tears away on its way. Yes, it was working...

But he rejoiced too soon. Regina's gaze shifted to his hand and she backed away into a tree trunk at the sight. Robin moved automatically to follow, when he caught the expression on her face.

Her eyes had the look of a wounded deer cornered by a huntsman, and she seemed to be pleading four her life.

He wanted so much to help, but there seemed to be no helping her now - or maybe he just wasn't doing it right, or wasn't the right person to do it at all.

Crushed, Robin withdrew his hand once more. With one long look, he turned and walked back to camp, where he sank onto the blanket heavily and stared into the fire.

Regina prayed for him to leave, and she wished he would stay. The fear was stronger, though, as it so often was.

She watched him leave the way he had come, obviously shaken by the state of her. Then she rested her forehead against the rough bark of the tree.

The tears came soon after, with a renewed force, and choked her with their salty bitterness.

Her fingers remained curled around the shabby photo as the gut-wrenching sobs made her insides ache.

Finally, she was crying.

* * *

_As I said - angsty. :( I just want to hug them... Or want them to hug? Anyway, I'll try to plough on with this as soon as possible, but I no longer have chapters written ahead, so it might be longer between updates. You do motivate me, though. ;)_


	9. Ghosts

_I'm back with a chapter! A shorter one this time, but this way I'm able to update more often. Once again, it turned out quite angsty I'm afraid. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for your feedback!_

* * *

Regina walked a step ahead of him and made it a point to avoid his eyes. She never said a word about the previous night, and clearly had no wish for him to bring it up either. So Robin kept quiet, but his mind raced. He just couldn't erase the image of her tears and misery from memory, and kept picturing the scene and making up scenarios in which he was able to offer some comfort to her, unlike he had been then. One minute he berated himself for having been too pushy, then he wished he had been more insistent in his efforts. It felt terrible to have been so helpless. Even now, she was refusing comfort.

They were in the Witch's territory now, nearing the Dark Palace, and Robin had had to concede that it was best for her to stay a little ahead, for she could sense magic before he had a chance to notice anything was amiss. Regina pushed branches out of her way unceremoniously, careless about dirt or twigs her clothes picked up in the process, looking ahead, pressing forward with tenacity. As they entered a thicket of bushes, he moved closer and kept a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Regina stepped out into a clearing ahead and halted, freezing to the spot. A small moan escaped her. Robin pulled his sword and bounded forward, slipping past her - but there was nothing and no one to fight.

A black shape lay sprawled on the flower-spattered grass, its long neck covered with shiny black mane, its legs gracefully arranged, and its dark eyes wide and bearing a strange sheen. A cone-shaped horn stuck out from its forehead and pointed straight at them. Robin stared in awe - he had heard about the creatures, but he had never seen an actual unicorn before.

"Is it dead?" she asked in a strangely tense voice, but still she hadn't moved.

"I think it must be," Robin said quietly. "Or else badly wounded." It was a sorry sight, and his heart filled with sadness. He moved to the poor animal and knelt to check for wounds. Something - or someone - must have made the kill, but there was no visible damage. "Maybe the wolves," he mused, brushing the silky mane aside to check the neck. He knew straight away it didn't fit - there would only be a carcass, and he couldn't even see one chunk of meat missing. "Or the Cyclopes."

"No," Regina said hoarsely. "Look."

Robin turned to her, curious what she could have spotted from so far away that he hadn't seen from up close. She had moved from the edge of the clearing in the meantime and was standing over a wooden box with a red jewel on the lid. It threw off a faint red glow, and Regina seemed unable to tear her eyes away from it.

"What is it?" he asked, watching her closely. Her breathing was hard and fast, and her eyes had a strange, faraway look in them.

She held out a hand to the box at her feet, and it glowed ever more with a pulsating red light.

"It's a heart," she breathed. "The box looks like the ones from my vault. But there had been no hearts left, I took them with me to Storybrooke." She wasn't talking to him anymore really, but merely giving voice to her thoughts. Frowning, she ran a hand across her forehead. "Unless they were returned when the New Curse was cast…"

"So this box holds one of…" Robin trailed off, the words strange in his mouth and the idea disturbing in his mind. "one of your - hearts?"

"No." The finality she said it with left no room for doubt, even though he had no idea how she could be so sure. "The unicorn's."

"So it's meant to look like you did this? It's like the villages again." She nodded, pale and so full of anguish it scared him. "She's framing you in hopes of creating chaos," he reasoned, stepping towards her. "Two small armies accomplish less than a single united one. It's just a tactic, that's all."

Regina shook her head.

"No. This is personal. It's about me. Who I was... Who I became." Her voice had faded to a whisper. "She knows things about me that..." she trailed off, and wrung her hands together, staring down at them. "But...how?"

"Regina, if there's nothing we can do for him, I think we'd better go on." He needed to get her out of there, because even though he didn't understand the profound effect this was having on her, the sight was clearly putting her under enormous stress.

"Maybe there is something," she said slowly, raising her eyes form the box at her feet to the sprawled animal.

She picked up the box and removed the lid. Robin couldn't resist peering in - the thought repulsed him but it was incredibly captivating at the same time. He had never seen anything like this before: a beating heart, red and very much alive outside its owner's body. Regina removed it from the box and approached the unicorn. Robin couldn't but stare in fascination as she crouched at the beast's side. Her free hand went to the horse's muzzle, and she stroked the lifeless shape lightly, possibly without realising she was doing so. Robin wondered what would come next, his mind coming up with one wild idea after another, but only one that kept resurfacing.

She didn't hesitate a moment as she grasped the heart and plunged it into the horse's chest.

Nothing happened. Perhaps there was something else to be done still, or perhaps whatever she had in mind had failed, perhaps it was too late.

Then the unicorn blinked and lifted its head off the dirt. Regina stepped aside. The animal began to struggle to get up, unfaltering even when its legs gave in once or twice, and eventually, it stood before them in full height, proud and unhurt, as if no harm in the world had befallen it. Robin watched, awe-struck, as the unicorn turned towards Regina and shook its mane slightly, eyeing her with eerie intentness. Regina reached out to it, and the horse bent its head, welcoming the touch.

The moment Regina's fingers came into contact with the unicorn's skin, Robin knew it was wrong, very wrong. The horse snorted and its eyes rolled back into its head for a split second before its steady gaze returned to Regina - only it was now a wild glare.

"Look out!" Robin cried just as she jumped back.

The horse gave a heart-breaking, tear-jerking neigh. Its muscles twitched unnaturally, and it whined in pain and terror. Robin didn't understand: nothing was threatening the animal, and it had seemed perfectly healthy just a moment ago. Of course, another moment before that, it had appeared to be dead…

The seizure was getting worse by the second, and the poor beast was screaming and kicking its legs in agony. Regina stood before it, rooted to the spot, and Robin feared for her safety - the hooves were at times dangerously close, and the beast seemed not in control of its own actions.

"Can you do something?" Robin yelled over the cacophony, but Regina didn't seem to hear. She stared at the raging unicorn with a look of utter horror and endless pain. The unicorn reared and kicked the air, and Regina stumbled backwards as it threatened to crush her.

And then she raised her hand and Robin expected a blast of magic - but nothing happened. The beast continued to convulse in a helpless tangle of legs and mane, with a fiendish glare. There was no helping it. Regina held out a hand in its direction. _End it_, Robin prayed, and he reached for his bow, certain that Regina would be faster. She, too, had to see this was the only way. But, whatever the reason, she couldn't do it. Her arm lingered in the air, and the beast reared again, but this time, blinded by pain, it shot forward to attack.

Robin released an arrow, and another one immediately after it. He watched their flight as though it were set into slow motion. One tore through the air and buried deep into the unicorn's neck. The other found its way straight through the tortured beast's heart.

The unicorn tumbled to the ground and lay dead.

Robin felt relief overcome him, although it was tainted by pity for the innocent animal's suffering.

Regina still hadn't moved, only her arm had now fallen limp to her side. She seemed unable to tear her eyes away from the lifeless shape.

"It's over," Robin said softly.

Regina whimpered.

Robin moved over to her with haste, stunned by the horror of it all, but mostly by her intense reaction. He was resolved to be there for her this time. However, he had barely put an arm around her when she slipped away from him and bolted for the bushes.

Once there, she bent over and was violently sick.

* * *

"I don't want to talk about it," she muttered without looking at him. Her stomach still turned at the thought of the unicorn's misery and her own. She couldn't bear to look at him, to be subjected to that intense blue gaze. How could she make him understand the meaning of this? Regina wasn't even sure she wanted to - a lot of it she didn't understand either.

Robin handed her a drink of water fresh from the stream. He sighed, but nodded all the same.

"Fine, we won't talk about it," he said, and she felt a mixed sense of relief and - something else she couldn't place. "But I'll make you a concoction and you'll drink it, even if it stinks foul."

Why was he being so kind to her, and so understanding? He knew nothing, of course, nothing about what this scene was referring to, nothing about her lessons with Rumple and how she had taken her first heart from a unicorn that had born an uncanny resemblance to this one. He knew nothing about Daniel and how he had turned into a monster when revived, or what she'd had to do then, which she suspected was why she hadn't been capable of killing the unicorn now. Thanks to Robin, she didn't have to.

"I don't need anything for an upset stomach," she objected.

Shame still attacked her in waves, ruining her attempt at sounding indignant. She had retched in front of him, for heaven's sake. Embarrassing didn't even come close to describing it.

"It's not for an upset stomach," Robin said quietly. "But I'm glad to see your usual stubbornness returning to you." He grinned, and she could almost hug him then - he wasn't pressuring her into talks, didn't linger on the awkward subject of throwing up, but steered the situation someplace she could begin to feel remotely comfortable again.

"Robin, there's no time for this," she heard herself say. He had bothered with her enough, she still felt uneasy about accepting these kindnesses from him. "We need to go. The Witch knows we're coming."

He concurred for the moment, and she breathed more easily once they had left the clearing behind, though she was still an emotional whirlpool. While she was doing her best to regain control, he announced a mandatory break, and shortly handed her a cup of the infusion he had threatened her with - except not quite like that, because instead of foul and bitter, it smelled flowery and tasted sweet. It was linden tea, and besides indigestion it was taken for its calming, soothing effect.

Perhaps Robin understood too much after all.

* * *

Regina tossed and turned that night, floating in and out of dreams that - and that only made matters so much worse - were really memories: memories of Daniel in Storybrooke Stables, of his plea to be freed from his suffering, of the simple yet oh so painfully difficult piece of magic that had sent him to eternal rest. Swimming against the current of her feverish mind, she finally got to the surface of this nightmare, only to be plunged into the memory of herself in the Enchanted Forest with a soft, warm, beating heart in her hand, a poor unsuspecting unicorn completely at her mercy, and the horror of her tutor's blood-curdling request. Her brain told her it was just a dream, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't snap out of it.

A hand gripped her heart, cold and skeletal. The world of hellish memories dissolved, and only darkness remained - and a chilly wind getting under her skin and into her very bones. Her throat tightened, and she gasped for air, but none would come. The cold stone floor of Storybrooke Sheriff Station loomed before her, and even as she raised her head dread filled her, because she knew what she'd see: a mass of ripped, rotting clothing flowing in the air, and a pair of red, gleaming eyes...And a second later, she'd feel the life - no, the soul - being sucked out of her...

A bright tongue leapt out of the fire, and Regina jerked awake. Her hand shot to her forehead and brushed a strand of sticky wet hair out of her face. She was covered in sweat, cold and shaking. It had only been a dream. The stables were gone, the unicorn was gone.

The red eyes were still there, peering from the thick foliage.

She blinked, and they disappeared. But the icy feeling at her heart lingered.


	10. At Odds

_Let's play the good news/bad news game, ok? Bad news: the identity behind the eerie red eyes isn't revealed yet - I do enjoy you guessing though. ;) Good news: this is basically pure Regina and Robin interaction, and disagreement abounds. Enjoy, and thanks for the reviews!_

* * *

"We have a guest over for breakfast," Regina's gleeful voice announced.

Robin turned around and almost dropped the piece of freshly-roasted meat into the fire. Regina had stepped from the thicket with a self-conceited smile on her lips, followed by a giant of a Cyclops trailing behind her, tame as a lamb.

"Where did you-? How?"

A smirk settled on Regina's face. Surely there hadn't been a fight. Robin looked her up and down and, much to his relief, found not a hair out of place - she was perfectly unharmed. Not so the Cyclops: the robust, muscled creature was shrouded in some strange purple substance - a cloud of magic of some sorts. His only eye looked glazed and his stare absent.

"Have you cursed him?"

"Of course not," she returned with a note of irritation. "But he would hardly have come with me voluntarily, and we have good use for him. Look."

Robin's look dropped to the Cyclops' helmet in Regina's hands.

"An officer?" he guessed at the sight of the full horse hair plume on top. He looked back at Regina, who was wearing a contented smirk. "He can tell us about the Witch's defenses," he said with a swell of hope.

Regina gave a small laugh. Under her pointed look, the Cyclops waddled over to a log and sat against a tree trunk. She rolled up her sleeves and reached towards him without a moment's hesitation, pinning the Cyclops with a cold, hard stare that made Robin shiver.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"Interrogating our prisoner," she snapped, "what does it look like to you?" She turned back to the beast with a malicious glint in her eyes that he hadn't seen there before. He didn't have to think twice to imagine the method the Queen was opting for would be highly unpleasant. He had to stop this madness before it went too far.

"Regina," he began warily, "I hardly think this is appropriate."

"Appropriate?" she spat, her voice dripping sarcasm. "This Witch has been kidnapping children. I'd hardly call that appropriate."

That was true, of course, but it didn't justify what they were about to do.

"We have no need of your magic to do this."

Regina seemed to think otherwise.

"I captured him with magic," she said with increased annoyance. "Why shouldn't I interrogate him the same way?"

The challenging, over-the-shoulder look she threw him cut right through the veil of reason he was struggling to employ.

"Oh, I don't know," he scoffed, "perhaps because he might be willing to speak without torture?"

He shouldn't have done that - shouldn't have let her provoke him into the increasingly heated tone matching her own. Yet here he was now. What was it about her that was making it impossible to stay calm?

"I tried that already," she retorted with her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. "He laughed in my face! No one laughs in my face," she finished darkly with unmasked threat.

"So this is really about your vanity?"

Her face darkened. It was too late now to take back the unfortunate choice of words.

"No, this is about the price of things." Her eyes darted to the Cyclops, then back to Robin. Something had changed in her expression, some kind of bitterness had crept into her face as she continued. "Sometimes you need to get your hands dirty doing what needs to be done. Nobility won't get us anywhere now."

"I prefer to remain within the boundaries of humanity whenever I can," he said in a level voice. Maybe he was being too judgemental, too pushy. Perhaps she would see the error of her ways if she didn't feel challenged by his attitude.

"I'm not asking you to give up these foolish ideals of yours," she said flatly. "I'll do the dirty work."

There was something about her voice as she said it that unsettled him, and it wasn't anger or arrogance this time.

"It makes no difference if I stand around while you do it," Robin answered, looking her in the eye.

She didn't miss a beat, nor did she show any sign of unease.

"Well, you could try stopping me and end up senseless, too, like our guest," she offered dryly. "Would that make you feel better? If so, let's be done with it."

Her patience was running out again, clearly. So was his - they were wasting precious time.

"Regina, if you would just-"

"Do you want your son back or not?"

"Of course I do!" he shouted.

Whoa there. He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. It'd been a while since he lost control like that.

For a moment, his outburst seemed to shake her just as much as it did him. Then she simply turned her attention to the Cyclops, who hadn't made a move during the entire exchange. Before she could do anything more, however, Robin was at her side, and wrapped his fingers around her arm to prevent whatever she was about to do.

"How dare you!" she boomed, whipping around to face him. Her eyes burned with fierce rage, and he could almost feel the heat rising in her cheeks as their faces were mere inches apart. The Queen's rage was infamous, and it seemed he was going to witness it first hand.

But Robin Hood wouldn't be intimidated into silence.

"I'd like to try my way first," he hissed. "Then we can consider yours."

For a moment nothing happened. Everything froze apart from their eyes, which were engaging in a staring contest of sorts. Who would out-stare whom?

"Fine," she said eventually through gritted teeth, "if wasting our time is what you desire, suit yourself."

Regina waved a hand in front of the Cyclops' dazed face, and his expressionless eye came to life again. His vacant face reassembled into a mask of hostility.

Regina sat down on a log, crossed her legs, and arched an eyebrow in expectation. He would have sworn once it wasn't possible to convey such an amount of sarcasm by just a look or posture, but right then she was proving him wrong. He turned back to the bound Cyclops - she hadn't bothered undoing the binding spell, and for now that was probably for the best anyway.

Robin begin to question the brute about the palace: what protection spells were in place, where the guards were positioned, where the children were being kept. He asked about the Witch: was she at the palace, what did she do with the children, what were her larger plans? But the wretched Cyclops held his tongue, eyeing Robin with utter contempt.

With each unanswered question, Robin's rage grew along with his despair. He could beat that mass of yellow-clad muscle unconscious - and did he yearn to! Damn, Roland was in there, and had been for days. He was taking too long to reach his son as it was, and now he was failing at obtaining crucial information from a creature that would probably kill them in a heartbeat if it had the chance - and all this just because his notion of honour was making him squeamish about torture. What did the means matter anyway, with his son's life at stake?

Conscience cried out in alarm at the thought, but at the same time Roland's image swam before his eyes. Robin would live with the guilt of mistreating the enemy before he could ever live with the guilt of losing Roland.

"Fine," he sighed in resignation, and pulled his dagger, "have it your way."

The prospect was sickening, but it had become necessary. Before he made the next move, however, Regina spoke from close behind him - how and when she had gotten there was a mystery to him.

"Have you ever had your heart ripped out?" she addressed the Cyclops in a low, threatening voice. A momentary look of panic crossed the rough features of their captive. "I thought so. Well, this shall be a first. Then you shall have no chance but to talk, and I can make sure your situation is extremely…unpleasant," she snarled in the Cyclops' face with her fingers digging into the striped shirt over his heart. Robin just stood there and watched her, utterly mesmerised. "Or," she pulled back a notch, removing her hand, at which the beast visibly relaxed, "you could just be reasonable and answer the questions the noble bandit here asked so politely."

The Cyclops looked around, took a deep, rattling breath, and a grunting noise issued form his mouth. He was speaking - and once he stated, there was no end to his words. The petrified creature told them all they wanted to know - or all it knew - and more. The palace was shielded by a protection charm. Every entrance was heavily guarded, but there was hardly any Cyclops force inside the palace itself. The abducted children were kept in the dungeons, but the Cyclops knew no details of their treatment. He seemed to know much of the Witch's plans when it came to army movements, which would certainly be useful once the Charmings mustered a force sufficient to take them on, but had no information about the Witch's overall motivations or plans.

"Do you believe he's telling the truth?"

Robin blinked at the sound of her voice. It no longer sounded as...disturbing as before. He surveyed the Cyclops.

"Yes," he nodded.

Apparently she had reached the same conclusion, or had by some miracle chosen to go with his view, because she didn't challenge it.

"And what do you propose we do with him now? Release him?" There it was - that sarcastic sneer again.

"No. We'll leave him here, tied up." To his own surprise, his answer was perfectly calm and collected, yet decisive. "That way he cannot forewarn the defendants of our arrival, and once he breaks free, it will be over."

Regina frowned at that, but didn't argue. Robin retrieved the slices of meat and began to warm them over the dying fire. Breakfast was in order, and then - planning their move on the palace.

* * *

If the bandit thought she was going to relent after a poorly seasoned slice of chewy venison in her stomach, he was badly mistaken. He should be grateful she had come to his rescue with the wretched Cyclops - the man had seemed so dismayed by the idea of dirtying his hands that she'd decided to step in. He didn't know that of course - he had no idea why she'd done it, and she certainly wasn't planning on telling him. Even is it was he'd had too much leverage on her - she hadn't ripped the beast's heart out or subjected him to torture as she might have - and would have, had her little make-believe not worked. But worked it had, and eventually all she'd had to do was play at Evil Queen without actually doing the deed.

Why had she chosen not to do it? She would have enjoyed the moment once. Did she regret not doing it now? No.

Regina shifted uncomfortably on the log.

"I know how we'll get into the palace," she said, redirecting her thoughts.

Robin raised his head from the chunk of bread he was finishing. "How's that?"

"There's a secret passage the Witch probably knows nothing about." The damn Witch may have usurped Regina's palace and staged twisted reenactments of events from her past, but Regina still had the upper hand. The palace had, after all, been the closest thing to a home she'd had for years. There was something else, too, to make her lips twitch. "Or even if she knows, she has no access to it."

Robin only took a moment to answer. "Let me guess - it's sealed by magic."

"That's right."

"But this Witch has magic, too."

_Thanks for stating the obvious_. Perhaps it was the consolation of her advantage that restrained her from carping at him further.

"This is different," she replied simply. "There's no way around blood magic, no matter how potent your powers."

Robin eyed her for a bit. He seemed about to speak but weighed his words carefully. She bristled at that: apparently, whatever he had to say, she wasn't going to like it.

"So you'll take us through the passage and let us in," he finally said. "Then I'll go and find Roland."

"Excuse me?"

He hadn't just said that, had he? He couldn't possibly mean to do this by himself. And the rigid resolve in his tone! What ever gave him the right to think he could boss her around like that?

Robin seemed unsurprised by her outraged reaction, and kept a solemn face.

"Regina, when I get back with those children, we need to be sure the passage is still safe to use," he reasoned without a hint of irateness. The man was getting increasingly insufferable by the minute, and this superior attitude he was taking with her would certainly do him no good.

"You think you can do this alone?" she challenged. "Are you really so overweening? In a palace that, even without actual enemies, is full of magical traps? You don't even know the way to the dungeons." She couldn't resist the jibe. "Talk about conceited," she threw at him with a direct, provocative look.

"How hard can it be to find the dungeons? You just go down to where it's cold and dark." Some exasperation had made its way into his voice, and some flurry. "The point is-"

"The point is you don't want me around," she snapped. The thought actually stung, and she ploughed on all the more vehemently for it. "Which would be fair enough if it weren't utter nonsense. This is why you asked for my help, remember? To free your son? Because I had magic?"

He was making no sense, and he seemed to be aware of it well enough, for as he was losing ground, a frown was settling on his brow.

"Yes, and now we're here and I'm ready to do my part."

"Why? For the glory?" It was a possible explanation, and really it should have made more sense to her than it actually did. Her gut was saying that was not it, though.

"Don't be ridiculous," he dismissed the idea at once. His patience must have been on the run-out, because he added with heavy sarcasm: "Where's the glory of a thief anyway, right?"

No, this wasn't about glory. Of course it wasn't. It was something else entirely. It was always the same with people when it came to her: sooner or later it would come to this, even when at first they had pretended to be accepting. Why would he be any different?

"You don't want me anywhere near your son." Damn, what was that bitterness doing in her voice? More importantly, what the hell was it doing in her heart? The boy was nothing to her. This man was nothing to her. What did it matter if he thought she couldn't be trusted?

"Regina..." he said, flustered. "No, you're wrong. I never once considered that." His surprise was so evident it was quite clear he was telling the truth. She waited. Robin watched her for a moment and sighed. "I don't like the thought of the kind of magic that would go down in there," he admitted.

He didn't like magic, that much was clear - anyone would have seen that. But he had always known she practised it - after all, that had been her greatest asset back when he'd suggested the alliance. The change of heart now made no sense whatsoever. Perhaps reason would work, perhaps it would show him his bias.

"You use weapons. I use magic. What's the difference?"

"The difference is magic comes with far too high a price." The damn man always had a response ready - worse yet, he managed to throw her off-balance with it. But he wasn't done yet. After a short pause, he continued, watching her closely. "And I think twice before loosing an arrow. You seem ready to throw a fireball at the slightest provocation."

The cheek of the man! How dare he say such a thing to her - and be right about it. Patience wasn't one of her virtues, even she had to admit that, and she'd often been accused of rashness. Her hot temper had actually cost her some in the past. That didn't mean he could get away with stating it so bluntly, though. Patience she might lack, but sass she had plenty of.

"What do you know, I might just be the Evil Queen," she mocked him. "Oh, wait - I am."

If he had bickered back, she would have known how to handle it, but he wasn't having any of that now.

"It's dangerous, Regina. It's unpredictable, and it's costly."

His calmness seemed unshakable...and his eyes so - genuine. She would almost have said he was worried - but letting it on would make things way too complicated for her liking.

"I know how to handle my magic, thank you very much."

"Magic has failed you before, remember?" He wasn't even being hostile; he was simply stating a fact.

How did he know about the battle - how she had lost her powers temporarily just before the wild ride? He didn't. It was the unicorn he was referring to, of course. That's what it must have looked like to him: that she hadn't finished the animal because her magic had fallen flat.

"That had nothing to do with magic," she said without thinking.

"What was it, then?"

Damn. She'd have done better to shut up. Now he'd start asking questions she had no desire to answer, or even think about at all.

"My magic will be fine, you needn't worry about it. The Witch should, though," she leered. With a little luck, Robin would jump at the subject of the Witch and forget about the unicorn fiasco.

That part clearly worked, but the reason was not what she had thought. Robin's expression changed.

"She might be waiting for you," he said with a note of exasperation. "Is it a coincidence she hasn't shown up yet to stop us? To stop the Evil Queen-" Regina fought back a shudder at the sound of that. "-whose palace she had taken, and in whose name she's been wreaking havoc lately? Have you entertained that notion at all?"

She had finally succeeded in put him out of countenance, except in a rather unexpected manner.

"Are you saying it's some kind of trap?"

"What do I know?" he shrugged. "It could well be."

If only she could tell what on earth was happening here. One moment tempers flared - especially hers - and the next he was being all concerned and earnest with her. The former she knew how to handle, but the latter was filling her with unease.

"I can take care of myself," she muttered. She needed to pull herself together, what was wrong with her anyway? She forced her mind to operate within reason - at least he seemed to respond to that. "Besides, we want to finish this Witch, don't we? So we'd come face to face eventually anyway."

The truth was, there was more than one benefit to facing the Witch. Regina needed to know who this woman was, what she was intending to, and above all, why the Witch harboured such hostility for Regina. Unlike many a victim of Regina's deeds, with the Witch they had never even met before, so it was next to impossible for Regina to gather. Then there was the most alarming fact of the Witch having so much knowledge of Regina's life - too much knowledge. No one was supposed to know about certain things, and yet...

"Regina."

She flinched at Robin's voice. Her mind had wandered quite a bit there, and she caught him looking at her with those bright blue eyes.

"You won't listen, will you?" He wasn't arguing anymore, and the deflated look of him almost worried her for a second, when she should be rejoicing that she'd won the argument. He looked genuinely concerned, though. Could part of her actually be...pleased? What a completely ridiculous notion.

Anyway, he needed to understand she would have none of this nonsense in the future.

"I'm not a child, Robin," she said, but she wasn't as bitter or scathing as she might be. That didn't mean she was any less resolved, though. "I'm not one of your Merry Men. You can't tell me what to do or what not to do. I'm going in with you whether you like it or not, and we're getting your son out of there exactly like we agreed. We're on the same side, so just be glad for it."

Robin kept quiet for a good while. Was he working on a retort, or was he simply resigned? Eventually, his pensive gaze focused on her again, and a mischievous glint crept into his eyes.

"You do know you're incredibly stubborn, even for a Queen," he stated. The corners of his mouth twitched. "I'm talking mules, milady."

She should be offended by that. Or should she?

Before she had time to decide, his grin faded and he added quietly, still not breaking eye contact: "Thank you."

"Shut up and finish your breakfast, thief."

She stared into her bowl and wondered how on earth the smile she was concealing so hard had made its way into her words.

* * *

_So how about this? Was this the appropriate degree of sassy and "argumenty", or am I still too soft on the two of them? :D_


	11. Something Wicked

_Since this next chapter's getting quite long, I decided to split it in two and give you a more timely and reasonably sized update. There's a long-overdue encounter in store in this part, and some Outlaw Queen cooperation as well (and more of that in the next chapter!). Thanks for sticking around, and enjoy!_

* * *

Robin's fingers tingled over the blade behind his belt. His eyes darted from tree to tree, watching for enemies. Regina seemed unperturbed, but was also scanning the landscape for something.

"Over there," she muttered, more to herself than him, and a smug smile played on her lips as she set out towards a large moss-covered boulder.

Robin followed, doubling his watch - if the Witch knew about the passage, the danger was bigger here than anywhere. Ever scanning the greenery, he strove to keep Regina in sight, too. With the simplest gesture, she stood before the rock, and Robin's head turned when the boulder rose gently, travelled through the air, and settled on the ground feet away. A shiver ran down his spine, as it was often the case in the presence of magic. He shook off the sensations creeping up on him. Thoughts of stolen magic wands and dear Marion would certainly do them no good now.

He stared hard into the dark mouth of the tunnel. Thank goodness he had a torch ready - otherwise no doubt Regina would take care of that with magic, too. But she wasn't squeamish about the gaping darkness, and descended first without looking back.

The passage was in good shape, with very few minor cavings along the way. Perhaps this was magically enhanced somehow. Regina pushed forward.

"Has anyone been through here?" She had suggested before that she, unlike him, could sense magical traps, so if there had been any intruders, maybe she'd notice.

"Everything seems to be the same," she replied. That didn't precisely answer his question, which made concern rise in him. He gripped the dagger tighter. How foolish of him, really, since that would hardly be much use against a magical foe. But better this than nothing - he certainly wasn't one to scare easily or just give up.

"I've been thinking," she turned to him abruptly. "Before you dismiss it, listen to me first."

"What is it?" It sounded as though what she was going to say wouldn't be to his liking.

"Maybe I should go get Roland by myself." Judging by the earnest look she was giving him, she really meant it, and clearly she had concerns about his reaction.

Well, she was damn right about that.

"You can't be serious," he said.

She wasn't giving up so easily, though. "You can watch the passage. That way you won't have to put up with my magic," she reasoned, and her voice caught for a moment, "and Roland won't be at risk of losing his father in the skirmish."

Was she really actually worrying about this? Robin himself entertained the thought much too often - Roland had already lost his mother, and putting himself in danger repeatedly during his banditry had often been cause for concern to Robin. But Regina was different, her concern was…well, touching, frankly.

"Regina, I appreciate the thought, I really do. But this won't do."

She sighed. "I knew you'd say that. You know, I could just bind you here magically until I come back."

There was no threat in her words, though.

"But you won't," he said and watched her carefully.

"No." She gave a humourless laugh. "You'd probably kill yourself before you gave up trying to get away. I know that's what I'd do if it were my son."

She ran through the words smoothly enough, but it had cost her a huge effort, and Robin was almost overcome by an urge to reach out to her. His heart broke at the thought of how difficult this had to be for Regina. This mission to save his son was a constant reminder of her own child, who was lost to her forever.

"You're right, I would," he managed finally. This wasn't a good time for heart-to-hearts, and what could he have said to make her feel any better anyway?

They soon came across one of the traps Regina had talked about before, perhaps not a magical one but deadly all the same: a minefield of sorts, and a slightly rusty crushing device that looked macabre enough without magical enhancement. Then they found themselves at the end of the passage and facing an open door.

"This can't be," Regina blurted.

That was when Robin's mind clicked.

"Is this the door you sealed with blood magic?"

"Yes! Only I can get through, no one else."

"Well, someone must have." This was most disturbing. If the Witch could do things even Regina thought impossible, they were in more trouble than they'd anticipated.

"But that's impossible," she insisted, "my whole family are dead, it just doesn't make sense."

"There must be an explanation…" Not one he could provide, and understandable though her agitation was, denial wasn't helping. "Either way, this Witch seems like a formidable foe, and more so by the minute."

"No one gets away with this." She balled her fist, and the dangerous glare he had seen before returned to her eyes. She marched through the door, and for a moment Robin didn't breathe - what if there was a new enchantment in place she overlooked in her distress? But she passed without problems, and he after her.

They entered a crypt of sorts, with shelves piled high all the way to the ceiling, and boxes lining them - heart boxes. Robin shivered.

"Shall we go?" Regina said pointedly, gesturing at the exit.

"Of course."

"Wait..." she held out a hand to stop him just as he was about to slip past her and through the door. "If I get to Roland first, he needs to know he's not to fear me. Is there anything…?"

"A safe word?" She nodded. Of course she'd know about safe words - she had a son, too. "You won't need one. He'll know."

His answer startled her, and she looked back at him with a curious expression on her face. Her puzzlement was hardly surprising, since his response had been unplanned. Yet it still felt true. Roland would be fine once either him or Regina or both got to him.

The hallway was dark and sombre, but no enemy was in sight. Things were going well so far - maybe too well? He had barely made three steps when he gasped in pain and grasped his foot. Regina appeared beside him, ready for battle, but no attack came. Robin pulled a jagged shard of glass from the sole of his boot. Dozens of fragments of all shapes and sizes lay strewn across the hallway, shimmering grimly, reflecting pieces of the walls.

"Damn bitch," Regina spat through gritted teeth.

Robin followed her eyes and groaned inwardly: there was a dark red heart lying inconveniently among the sharp-edged remnants of the mirror.

Whose heart was it? Why had it been placed there? Evidence was piling up fast to suggest the Witch was plotting something, and all her little hints had been aimed at Regina. Clearly this was a trap if he'd ever seen one.

"Regi-"

"The dungeons are that way. I need to take care of this first."

"Can't you see this is a trap? This Witch has it in for you!" He couldn't, wouldn't let her rush headlong into some horrid ambush.

"I know," she said simply. Her face darkened as she continued: "And I intend to give her just what she wants - for now, at least."

Surely she couldn't mean that. He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him before he had a chance to speak.

"No time to argue. Now go get your son, I'll be there shortly. This won't last long."

Roland. Roland needed him. He was defenseless. Regina, on the other hand… As he looked on, she picked up the heart from the bed of shards, and cleared a path in the debris with a casual wave of her hand.

"Regina."

She turned, annoyance clear on her face, and her eyes flared. Before she could let out a retort, he said:

"Be careful."

Her features relaxed, and she nodded with a strange glimmer in her eyes.

Robin turned and rushed away the way she had indicated to him. Finally he would get his son back to safety.

* * *

By the time she reached her chamber, Regina had worked up quite the rage. Anger had always been a good place to go from when it came to fuelling her magic, and the Witch's excesses made it superbly easy to sustain the rage. What was she thinking? Who was the Witch to assume she could just throw pieces of Regina's past in her face?

The heart beat away in her hand in rhythm with her heels click-clacking against the marble floor. She burst into the chamber in full stride.

"Enough with the games," she thunder at the room at large. "What do you want?"

"Not so fast, dear. Introductions first."

A figure that hadn't been there before now rose from behind Regina's old dressing table and turned to face her. Flaming red hair contrasted sharply with her skin - green skin. _Great._ But that wasn't all: the impudent bitch was wearing one of Regina's dresses.

"The name's Zelena.

"Forgive me if I don't bother to even pretend to be charmed."

Regina's fingers twitched around the heart. She needed to control herself -it wasn't really the heart they yearned to squeeze, more so the wretched Witch's neck. But that wasn't why she was here now, and moreover, if she succeeded, she'd never know why all this nasty mess had been for.

The Witch smirked at the sight of the nervous twitch, and Regina felt the heart in her hand disappear and reappear in the Witch's. A trickle of ashes issued from her closed fist; the Witch didn't even blink an eye, but kept them fixed on Regina as she squeezed the life out of some unlucky victim.

"Just your old friend, the Cyclops," she shrugged, and smoothed down her dress - Regina's dress. "It looks good on me, doesn't it?" she ran a hand along her hip. "I was beginning to think you might not come," she said as she strolled casually around the chamber. "It almost made me feel…neglected." If it was supposed to be a jibe, it had come somewhat short - something had actually shifted in the Witch's eyes at the words. Perhaps the Witch was telling Regina more than she was intending to, if Regina only paid attention… "Perhaps you were just afraid," the Witch sang inches from Regina's ear.

"Afraid. Of you?" Regina threw back her head and laughed.

"Ah, but you don't know who I am." The Witch stepped towards her abruptly, sticking her sickly green face close to Regina's - so close they were almost nose to nose. Regina didn't flinch. _I believe you just introduced yourself_. Not that it was needed, the green skin was quite a giveaway. The Witch's identity didn't, however, explain why she'd been targeting Regina specifically, and most of all, how in the hell she knew about things from her past no one was supposed to know. "Perhaps I am to be feared. You'd be wise to," the Witch spat.

Regina didn't scare easily, but those little things the Witch had used against her before managed to get under her skin. It was maddening, really, and - yes - scary. Regina balled her fists. She wouldn't make it easy on this shameless intruder. She might have her clothes and her palace, but Regina'd have something to say about it first.

A mighty crash resounded from somewhere beneath them, and the floor shook under Regina's feet. Damn. Either Robin had learnt some ready-to-go magic, or he was in serious trouble. She should be heading down to help, or else he'd probably meet his end sooner than he'd care to. And there was Roland down there, and who knew how many other children. She needed to focus now, not let her anger cloud her judgment. The Witch seemed hellbent on torturing her anyway, so the showdown wasn't probably going anywhere.

"Look," Regina said with her chin stuck up, "I'm fairly certain we've never met, so what you have against me is beyond me." The Witch scoffed, but no matter how curious Regina was, she didn't have time for her deranged explanations now. "But these children have done you no harm, and they're coming out of here now."

Strange - the Witch didn't seem in the least bothered. Perhaps all of this, including the abductions, had just been a ruse?

"See, that's a funny little story," the Witch resumed pacing in circles around Regina.

Regina refused to follow her movements, never turned or craned her neck, but discreetly made sure she stayed remotely within line of sight. It wasn't clever, perhaps - she was actually putting herself at risk - but it was dignified, and showed the Witch wasn't in control as much as she'd have liked to. Of course, some might have said Regina was just letting her pride triumph over reason…but those people weren't there to judge her anyway.

"Apparently, a child should vanquish me." A small laughter escaped the Witch's lips. _Not again. _Hadn't Rumple been enough? "There's a children's books somewhere that says so, did you know that?" Of course Regina bloody knew that, everyone in Storybrooke must have read about the Wicked Witch of the West. "A children's book would say that, of course - it would always say a child."

This was getting ridiculous, clearly the woman was crazy. There was no time to spare for her lunatic babble.

"I don't care," she cut in, stressing each syllable. "We're freeing these children, and making sure you never get anywhere close to them ever again."

"Ah, but I don't care anymore," the Witch scoffed. "Who I'm looking for might not even be a child anymore. Irrelevant, really. I'm looking for a different kind of solution now that you're here - dear."

"Why me?" Regina couldn't suppress.

"You really have no idea, do you?" The superior tone, the jeer, and above all the fact that it had succeeded in making her feel small for a second all contributed to Regina's animosity towards this Witch growing by the second.

"What do you want?" she growled.

"Simple. I'm going to take everything away from you." The accursed greenie didn't move a muscle as she uttered the cold threat.

It might have discomfited her once, but now Regina just felt the hollow place in her heart come to life with renewed pain.

"Too late," she replied, fighting the urge to clutch her chest. "I already have nothing left." Henry, her raison d'etre, was gone forever. So was the life she had tried to build up from scratch in Storybrooke - and failed, to a large extent, but still she would have preferred that life to the Enchanted Forest.

The Witch's face distorted into a grimace. "Oh, but you're wrong. How very silly of you to wallow in self-pity, when you've had everything…" Everything? When on earth had Regina had everything? Not once - that was exactly why she'd cast the Dark Curse. Somewhere behind Regina's indignation and bitterness, the reality of the Witch's utterance dawned on her: the Witch was jealous. Of what? Despite time being short, Regina would have asked, but the Witch spoke again.

"You have more now than before you cast the Curse. You'll see."

That was a threat if Regina had ever heard one. It was her turn now to stroll to the Witch and spit a retort in her face - and she made sure it contained every ounce of contempt and fighting spirit she had in her.

"Bring it."

Oh, what she wouldn't give to wipe that smug smile off that irritating green face. But now was not the time.

That they seemed to agree on at least, for the Witch waved her hand in the air and hopped on the magically summoned broom. How utterly unoriginal. Regina didn't bother stopping her. If the Witch was fleeing the palace, so much better for them. If Regina's suspicions were right, she wouldn't have to look for the bitch later - the Witch would find her.

"Oh, one thing," the irritatingly stoic voice rebounded from the ceiling as the broom headed for the window. "That handsome thief you have with you is most likely in some rather nasty trouble by now. You might want to…ah, give him a hand - sis. Unless you wish the fate of your dear late husband on him, of course."

* * *

Shards of glass and chipped stone flew out of her way as she stormed through the hallways of the palace towards the dungeons. Robin had gotten far enough, for she hadn't come across him yet, but she'd met no enchantments on the way either. That was strange - the Witch leaving a clear path unobstructed by magic or other protective means. Robin had been right, this was highly suspicious. Hopefully, he'd been clever enough to proceed with care.

The Witch's words rang in Regina's ears: _the fate of your dear late husband_… What the hell was that about? What did Robin have to do with any of that? Yet the words gave her a chill, and she hurried down the stairs, blasting an enchanted suit of armour out of her way - her own enchantment, not the Witch's, and Robin seemed to have gotten through this one well enough on his own.

The door to the antechamber stood closed before her. That was peculiar - why would he bother closing it behind him? Regina's senses tingled. The antechamber was directly beneath her chamber - it had to be where she'd heard the crash from. She tried the door - it was sealed by magic. Blood magic. _Damn!_

"Robin?" she called half-heartedly. Which would be the better sign: an answer, or no answer?

"I'm in here," came his muffled voice. It sounded calm enough, and relief washed over her strained nerves momentarily - he was alright, at least for now. "I could do with some help." Calm, but also forced. What on earth was in there?

"I can't get through," she cried in frustration. "It's blood ma-"

The Witch had found a way to get through Regina's blood magic. Regina had to at least attempt to outdo the Witch's. A shred of their conversation floated to the surface of Regina's mind: _sis_. She dismissed it immediately - a word only, but it made no sense whatsoever, so why go there?

She raised her hand and prodded the door with a finger - if it was supposed to work, it would be enough.

The door yielded to her touch.

Regina gasped. Blood magic wasn't supposed to work this way, what the hell was going on?

A low hissing sound reached her ears. An indistinct sense of alarm came to life within her, sending shivers down her spine.

"Regina…?" Robin's voice came from the dark. The torch must have gone out by some accident.

Regina conjured a fireball and peered into the room.

Her blood curdled at the sight.

Robin stood with his back against the wall, sword in hand, but it wasn't doing him much good.

A pit of snakes covered the floor, coiling and uncoiling, hissing aggressively at the intrusion of light, baring their venom-filled fangs.

Regina moaned. Had Robin been bitten yet? _Fool!_ Of course not - if he had, he'd be dead by now. The venom worked within seconds - she knew that better than most. She'd used it before, precisely because it was so fast-acting. Damn witch! But how hadn't the vipers attacked yet? Just then, a golden beast shot forward, attacking Robin's calf with its fangs at the ready. Robin fought back, sending the snake flying with the blade of his sword. The hissing grew louder - the vipers were mad. She had to act fast. It was a miracle already she hadn't come too late.

Regina commanded her emotional turmoil to peace - she needed to focus. One bad move could cost them both their lives.

Triangular heads rose and beady eyes stared into the shadows. There were too many to transfigure fast enough, and most spells she would normally use would provoke them to attack. _Think_. What were they? Vipers. Agrabah vipers. Nocturnal animals. Desert dwellers.

Regina's hands rose in the air, and as they did, a slight breeze rose with them, bringing with it a spray of fine sand. The hiss of the snakes had died out as the wind grew into a strong gale. Grains of sand floated on the air until they were thrown against the walls of the antechamber by a blast of air. The storm died out eventually, gently laying the remaining sand on top of the newly formed, smooth sandy dune in the corner opposite to Robin.

The larger part of the viper nest was now covered in sand. A pair of eyes stared out here and there, invisible to all but those who looked carefully enough. Without a moment's hesitation, Regina summoned one of her trusty fireballs. Bright and larger by the second, it illuminated the room and sent half a dozen snakes into hiding in the sand-hill.

A handful proved more vicious and tenacious, however, and, backing away from the light, inched ever closer to Robin, their venomous fangs at the ready. Robin brandished his sword and struck - one of the vipers coiled helplessly onto the stone floor, its head severed from the body. But there were too many for him to handle. Another pair reared to attack. Regina threw. Fire spilled onto the floor, forming a wall between Robing and the snakes, sending them into rapid retreat. With a quick wave of her hand, Regina smothered the flames. Another flick, and the sand dune disappeared, and its dwellers with it.

Robin stepped away from the wall, his relief obvious. No wonder - he had to be aware what danger he'd just pulled through. "That was close. Good thinking…nice handiwork. Thank you."

Was he really complimenting her magic? He hated it, after all. Well, maybe the circumstances made him appreciate it for once. Hopefully she didn't look too smug. Probably not - the scene had frozen even her blood. The mental image of the den of snakes still made her head spin. _Unless you wish the fate of your dear late husband on him… _How could she possibly know, and why…?

"Are you alright?" he stepped towards her. "The Witch…?"

"Oh, we met. And we shall meet again." That much was clear, if not the whys and hows.

They had more important matters to deal with for the moment: if Robin had been trapped like this, what fate could the children have met? No child should be subjected to this kind of horrors. This Witch had better not made a mistake like that, or Regina would make her wish she'd never started with her in the first place.

"Now let's get your son."


	12. This Way Comes

_Oh look, a long one...it ran away with me a little. On the other hand, a lot happens: introducing Roland, revealing the owner of the red eyes, Oz references, a little shout-out to actual scenes from the show, Regina & Robin cooperation, and the stirrings of something we'll see more of in the next chapter. Reviews are love - many thanks for them all. Happy reading!_

* * *

"Roland?" Robin's voice echoed off the walls.

The darkness was impenetrable, and her magic fireballs ineffectual against it. It was an enchantment she'd heard about, but had never tried herself. Well, now was as good a time as any to attempt the counter-curse.

"Roland!" Desperation was creeping into Robin's voice.

"He can't hear you," Regina said quietly.

"Why not? I can hear you."

"It's part of the magic. A barrier, so to speak," she explained. "It divides outsiders from the hidden object."

"Can you undo it?" His temper was running short, but could anyone blame him?

"Of course."

All wasn't as bright as she was making it sound, though. It was an advanced piece of magic, and even though she was fairly positive she'd manage, it would leave a mark on her, which did not bode well for the upcoming battle. Robin didn't need to know that, however, there was nothing he could do anyway. Hopefully he'd have strength enough to get Roland by himself if some unexpected backlash were to render her incapable of helping.

"Follow the wall," she said. "Keep away form the bars. When you find the door, stop and wait." If they started from opposite entrances, there was no way anyone or anything could slip away in the skirmish, taking Roland along. "When the darkness dissolves, just grab Roland and go. I'll take care of the rest."

For a moment Robin was silent, then his footsteps on the stone revealed he had begun to move away from her. No resistance. He didn't even object to her suggestion, apparently perfectly alright with leaving her behind now that his son was near. The pang of hurt was gone as soon as it had come. It was for the best. Roland needed him. No one would miss her.

Even with closed eyes, she felt the enchantment lifting at the cost of enormous willpower. The silence persisted, however, and for a while she just listened in with closed eyes. Surely by now she had neutralised the magic - what was wrong? She opened her eyes.

The cell on her left was empty. She started along the corridor, her steps and bated breath still being the only sound in the cold dungeons. Could she have done it wrong? Was this two separate enchantments instead of just one?

A crow croaked somewhere.

Regina threw some light into the right-hand cell, but it was empty as well as the ones before. No guards. How peculiar - and suspicious. Was Robin facing the same, or was he meeting any kind of resistance?

There was a yard coming up soon. If the Witch had planned a force to attack, this would be the place. Regina readied herself, then strode on without pause.

There were no guards, no soldiers, no Cyclopes, and no Witch. In the middle of the yard, a large, square cage hung from the ceiling on a chain as thick as her arm, and in it, a dozen children of all ages. A dozen pairs of eyes stared back at her, a dozen pairs of hands were gripping the bars, but not one pair of lips moved. Perhaps they were frightened - anyone would be.

"It's alright, I'm not here to hurt you. We're taking you home, alright?"

There was no answer. The eyes continued to stare.

Regina moved toward them. Hands retracted with unbelievable speed, and the children all huddled together in the middle of the cage, as far away from the bars as possible. _You damned bitch, what have you done to them? _Coming closer, Regina craned her neck to examine the chain, when a pair of wide brown eyes caught hers. They belonged to a little boy with messy hair - the only one who hadn't joined his comrades. It was too dark and too high up to make out much, but he did look about four or five years of age.

"Roland?" she chanced.

The boy nodded, ever keeping his eyes fixed on her.

"I'm Regina," she said.

His lips moved, but no sound came out.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," she said, trying to sound as normal as possible, and smiled up at him.

"…Papa?" the child breathed almost noiselessly.

"He's here, Roland. He'll be here in a minute."

Where was Robin, what was taking him too long? As if to answer, a distant ring of blade on blade reached them from an adjoining corridor. Robin was having a harder time getting there than she had, but he could hold his own in a fight. Unless there were too many…or magic was involved. But she couldn't rush to his aid now, not with the children so close, so frightened, and so helpless. She had to get them out, and the sooner the better. Then they'd get Robin, and they'd all get the hell out of here.

"Roland," she addressed the child, whose eyes lingered on the dark mouth of the corridor in the direction of the distant fighting. Not only did she have special interest in the boy, since he was the one they had come for above all, but he was also the bravest of the lot - he was clearly taking after his father - and could hopefully get the others to trust her by example. The child's tiny hands curled around the bars more tightly, but he fixed her with those big brown eyes full of curiosity rather than fear.

"I'll make a way down from there for you, alright?"

He nodded, and made to stand up. After a moment's searching in the unstable cage, his little feet found a bar, and he stood looking down at her expectantly.

It had been clear from the start she couldn't bring the cage down without scaring the children even more, if not harming them physically, too. There had to be another way. A small smile played on her lips. She had just the thing.

Regina waved her hand, and a giant slide materialised out of thin air, leading from one of the cage's walls right down to her feet. Another flick of her wrist later, the wall of the cage disappeared.

Roland stared at the slide, trembling slightly - was it fear or excitement? Could magic have scared him? Or did he enjoy slides? This world didn't have playgrounds of the other world's kind, but sometimes you could find a natural one - she herself used to love them as a child.

"How about this: you slide, and I'll catch you," she said to Roland as cheerfully as if they were simply spending the afternoon at a park's playground.

It seemed to work. Roland edged to the slide, sat down, and let his legs hang, pointing towards her. Regina reached towards him in a gesture of encouragement. Roland's fist released the bar he was holding on to. Then his eyes acquired an alarmed look, and he scrambled up again, clenching the bar with both hands.

"It's alright," she said with a note of desperation. He didn't trust her. Why would he? She was a stranger, just another black-clad witch to keep away from in these children's eyes. Robin had been a fool to believe Roland would see a friend in her.

"Buzzing," he cried down to her. He eyed the slide with mistrust. "It's buzzing."

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" Surely he wasn't implying the slide was buzzing. Unless... What was it the book said? About wolves? And...crows, there were crows under command of the Wicked Witch of the West. And one other species. "Roland? Did you say buzzing? Like...bees?"

Roland nodded, but Regina's eyes had darted elsewhere in the meantime. A black swarming cloud descended over the cage, and Regina saw feet being drawn in as the bundle of scared children drew closer together. But the swarm didn't attack the children. Instead, it floated towards Roland, who watched, transfixed, unable to move. Before Regina had time to think it through, the angry cloud dashed right at the trembling child. Instinct led her, and a memory lodged deeply in her subconscious: a memory of a Scarecrow and his scattered straw. Just as her mind had settled on the image, her magic came to life, and a straw cushion engulfed the small figure of Roland.

A clink of metal on stone made her head turn, and her arm shot upwards, ready to strike. Robin stumbled into the yard, a gashed helmet rolling on the stone floor. Enchanted armour had proven insufficient to stop him. His eyes searched the room feverishly, lingering on the cage - and next moment the cloud of vermin, thrown off by the protective cocoon around Roland, was targeting a new victim. Regina sent a fireball at the cloud but missed, only hitting a few outer ones.

That gave Robin time to recover, though, just as the oversized bees directed their stings at him. Motionless until the very last moment, he then raised both hand above his head, and Regina's second fireball broke just above the shield he was holding up, too weak against its magical enhancement. Not just the fireball, however - the bee swarm, ignorant of the danger and unable to change direction so quickly anyway, hit the shield with the sound of a hailstorm, pelleting the ground with broken stings and black-and-yellow bodies.

"Papa," Roland cried, and Regina's head turned upwards.

Without magical support, the conjured straw had soon dispersed, and Roland was looking down with a mix of terror and longing. Robin was still busy withstanding the onslaught of bees, but the animals were stupid enough to come dashing against the shield, and there weren't many of them left after the suicidal attack.

"Roland," Regina called back. She needed to sound calm and confident, she needed to show him he was safe. "I'll catch you," she assured the child.

With a determined look on his face, Roland sat down on the edge of the slide and pushed himself away with his hands. He rushed towards her, gaining speed, letting out a small squeal. Regina reached for him and snatched him up just in time, scooping him into her arms.

"Well done," she gave him a bright smile. The little boy clung to her, his thin arms wrapped around her neck. Regina rubbed his back gently. The poor child was still trembling, but he wasn't crying. His chin rested on her shoulder, and he felt warm and soft in her arms. Holding him was…nice.

Then Robin appeared at her side, and Roland reached out for him with a cry of joy. Regina let go of the boy as Robin grabbed his son and pressed the child to him. A soft groan escaped Robin, and Regina's heart hurt. She missed Roland's weight in her arms all of a sudden. She missed Henry. She missed hope that they could one day be reunited, that they could share a moment of utter relief and joy like the one she was witnessing. They'd already had that on the way from Neverland, of course, and again just before the New Curse hit. They'd thought they could be happy - she had most certainly believed it for a moment. Wrong again.

What was that? That soft rustling sound?

"Robin," she warned in a low voice. He didn't seem to hear.

Regina listened in, but the only sound now was the whisper of father and son next to her. She had heard it before, though - it had definitely been more than just her imagination.

"Go," she muttered, laying a hand on Robin's arm to catch his attention.

He looked at her with teary eyes, then scanned the surroundings. Their current situation seemed to register at last.

"What?" he asked softly.

_Go_, she mouthed - and the fool shook his head. Didn't he understand this was dangerous? He had his son, what did he care? It wasn't as if he were leaving those children to their fate - she'd stay and fight whatever the hell it was coming upon them this time.

"Roland," she heard him mumble into the child's ear. "We'll leave soon, but we need to get the others first, alright?" The child looked at him but didn't say anything. "We always look after our buddies, remember?" Roland nodded. He seemed about to say something, but he just glanced at the cage, frowned a little, and looked away, his fist curling into Robin's tunic. "Roland, I want you to hide." Robin looked around. "Over there, alright?" He pointed at a heap of broken, overturned furniture in a faraway corner. It was probably the safest choice, if there even was one. Still, Regina had an urge to grab Roland and get him out of here herself. The sound of her name gave her a momentary jolt of surprise. "And only come out for me or Regina, understand?" The child looked at Regina and nodded again.

Once Robin placed him where he'd chosen for a hideaway and turned his back on it, Regina discreetly placed a protection charm on Roland's temporary hideout.

It was just in time, for before Robin rejoined her, there was that faint rustling sound again - only not so faint anymore.

Robin paused, looking around, then fixing her eyes on her with a question clear in them.

"I think it's crows," she said.

"Crows. Splendid. Will they be larger than life, just like the bees?"

"Maybe." She really had no way of knowing what enchantment the Witch had chosen for these creatures, but a little straw and an enchanted shield would not be enough this time. In the story, they'd peck out one's eyes…

The rustle was growing, with more and more birds adding to the sound, but still no sight of one. Robin drew his bow, but even his skills were useless when the target was invisible.

"Can't you make it - lighter?" he growled in frustration.

She'd do just that.

"Ready?" she muttered back, rolling up her sleeves. The crows would prove to be tougher than the bees, though how she knew it remained a mystery for now. Well, maybe for one, they were playing the waiting game, which was to undermine the foe's morale. Hopefully it wasn't working too well, although truth be told she wasn't the most patient person in the world, and Robin seemed to be on his toes for once, too.

Regina summoned a purplish ball of light, then sent it across the air. As it made its way around the yard, following the walls, torches sprang to life with bright purple flames, and illuminated the space up to the very ceiling.

The ceiling remained black, but it wasn't for lack of light. Rows and rows of large dark-feathered birds sat perched on ledges, their beady eyes staring down at the pair of them. They didn't show signs of distress at the onset of light - quite the contrary. An eerie cackle rose form their ranks, and a few waved their wings or ruffled heir feather.

A party of fifteen separated from the mass and began their descent in decreasing circles. An arrow flew up, and another two followed in rapid succession. Three birds fell just as Regina's spell found another one, and another one. Arrows and bolts of magic were soon flying through the air, their paths criss-crossing, their victims landing at their feet with a soft thud. Every time a party was vanquished, another one swooped down, and the rest of the mob cackled and cawed with increased gusto. There were so many of them - too many to take down one by one if they attacked together. Maybe these groups of fifteen…but how long until the beasts understood that? Perhaps she was giving them far too much credit.

Much to her dismay, she was proven right shortly. Half a dozen mobs later, the attacks came to a lull. Robin nocked another arrow - good, he wasn't fool enough to rejoice this was over when the danger was only changing its form. Next moment, the rustle and croaking reached a deafening velocity, and a black cloud descended on them. Robin, who had been standing back to back with her just a second ago, was suddenly out of sight, obstructed by wings and beaks and sharp claws. Regina tried desperately to keep the birds at bay with fire, but even if the birds nearest to her got scared, it mattered little, for they had nowhere to escape with their comrades pushing them down on the pair of them. Somewhere near her, Robin cursed. Whatever he was doing, he was still fighting, although with how much success was questionable.

Regina's mind worked feverishly as she struggled to keep up the fiery shield she'd produced. What were these crows in the story? Talking birds. Clever birds. Fallen at the hands of a single Scarecrow. But there were only forty of them then. He twisted their necks one by one.

Twisted their necks. Regina cackled - the sound merging strangely with the cackle of the birds. Well, a few of them at least wouldn't be cackling long anymore. It was just a simple movement of the wrist - she'd done it before - and a bird fell with a thud, its neck broken. Unlike the Scarecrow, she didn't need to catch them first - if she aimed carefully, she could get them right in the air - and get them she did. The heap of dead birds grew by the second, and she even caught a glimpse of Robing once, brandishing a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, cutting the head off a bird in flight just as she was looking. _Good_.

But the birds were way too clever. They rose into the air and began dive-bombing them with the severed heads of their own dead. Regina covered her head foolishly as the first feathery head with gaping eyes and sharp beak landed at her feet.

Then she was swept aside and pushed against a wall. She fought briefly, but her fists had never been her most potent weapon, so she didn't really do much harm in the short flurry - which was all for the best, because the green of the tunic was familiar, of course, and the moment she noticed she stopped raining with fruitless punches down on Robin. Shielded by his body form the birds' attacks, she forced herself to think. The birds would soon come up with a new strategy once they noticed their targets were rendering the attack fruitless.

Maybe if she could just earn them some time to get the other children and run…maybe she could do just that.

Slipping from Robin's hold, she targeted the chain holding the cage, and sent a shock of energy its way. The slide disappeared, and as the shock of magic broke through the chain, the cage tumbled down, rushing towards the ground. The crows sensed the danger and attempted to flee from harm's way, but for some of them it was too late - they were crushed by the rushing bars. The rest, however, rose to the ceiling, regrouping for attack.

Regina summoned two forces of energy - but then her knees buckled and her arms trembled. In a split second, dozens of thoughts raced through her mind. _No…not now_. They were so close, she couldn't fail now. _Just a little longer, please. I need to get those children to safety_. She made another attempt, this time focusing on only one charm at a time. The cage would hit the ground in a second, and the children wouldn't survive the impact of she didn't do something. They should have just gotten Roland… Now it was too late.

Henry could be one of those children.

A surge of magic ran through her body, and she released all its power in one blast. The cage landed with a crash and the walls had fallen in a jumble - but the bottom was intact, and so were the children. With a mighty effort, Regina sent another blast upwards, praying it would work but not daring to look. Angry cawing met the cast spell, and an arrow whizzed past her ear. Regina raised her head to see a stray crow fall to the ground with an arrow through its neck, and above it, its brethren imprisoned under the ceiling by means of the strong magical web she had conjured.

Regina exhaled. They did it.

Breathing heavily, she made to collect herself. Robin had approached the children, helping the braver ones up and towards the door. Then they'd get Roland from the magically protected hideout just a few steps from her, and-

Something tugged at her dress, and Regina whipped around, her nerves on edge.

"Roland!" she gasped. The little boy had already left the protection of the hideout - but when? It didn't matter - he looked perfectly fine. He must have only just run out and to her. She crouched down to him, a question ready on her lips, but the child was faster. He leaned to her with an urgent expression - almost a frightened one.

"Not him," Roland whispered in her ear. "Not the big one."

Regina looked towards the group of children. They were all standing by the cage, ready to go, except for one last boy Robin was just about to approach. The boy was about Henry's age. Of course they couldn't leave him behind.

"Don't wake it," Roland whispered again.

The boy couldn't possibly be sleeping after such a racket. Indeed, he wasn't. It had to be the shock speaking.

Regina held Roland's hands in hers.

"It's alright, we'll get you all out of here, ok?"

Robin reached to help the boy up as she spoke. Roland tugged at her hand nervously and stared wide-eyed. What was he so afraid of?

He'd said 'it'. Don't wake _it_.

"Papa!" Roland cried.

Robin had jumped back from the boy and looked around frantically. He stood alone, the other children having disappeared - probably into the dark hallway. Something was happening with the lone boy - the one Roland had warned them about and they'd misread the warning for shock. Now an eerie sight was upon them: within seconds, the boy was sprouting a tail, wings, and claws. His features changed and so did his build, dark hair shot out of his skin, and he uttered an obnoxious shriek.

Robin swung his sword but missed as the beast took flight. It swooped down on him, then rose back in the air just as Robin was about to land a blow.

Regina turned to Roland, who was rooted to the spot, and grabbed him with haste. She needed to get him to safety: the hallway or the enchanted hideout, whichever she could get to first. The monkey - or whatever the hell it was - was floating in the air, eyeing her with bloodshot eyes. It shot towards them. Regina was ready, however, and sent a blast of magic at it. The beast was faster, dodged, then continued its advance.

"Get down!"

Regina acted immediately, dropping to the ground with Roland wrapped safely in her cloak, shielding his little body with her own. A rush of air cooled her neck, and a sharp pain in her arm made her cry out. She let go of Roland, ready to be snatched up in the air by the monster, but no such thing happened. Instead, a mighty shriek cut across the air, and she looked up to see the beats thrashing around with an arrow through its shoulder.

Robin's timely action, which saved them for the moment, proved too little against the monkey though. Realising it couldn't get the arrow out, it turned its focus back on Regina. Roland scrambled backwards, and the frantic look in his eyes woke a cold rage in her. How dare she send minion like this, disguise them, and use them to terrorise these children?

Regina sprang to her feet, shaky as she was, and glowered at the approaching beast. With a ghastly shriek, it launched against her again. One, two, three arrows shot up in the air, but only one even grazed the agile creature, and it continued to hurtle towards her and Roland. This time Regina was ready for it, though. What had attacked her had been an awe-inspiring beast; what landed in her hands a moment after she dispatched the spell - a cuddly stuffed monkey.

A smirk settled on her face at the sight. She shot Robin a glance - he was on his feet, so there wasn't cause to worry. She turned to Roland, the monkey in her hands.

"See?" she said softly, adopting a cheerful tone she had used with the slide before. "Not so scary. Now you have a new toy."

Her smile wavered a little as Roland eyed the monkey with a little suspicion. Had it not worked? Was he still afraid of it?

Roland looked up from the stuffed animal and fixed her with those big brown eyes. "He's shot," he complained.

Regina chuckled. She ran a hand over the plushie. The arrow disappeared, and the holes filled in. She handed the toy to the awestruck little boy.

"As good as new," she smiled.

"Roland," Robin breathed as he snatched the boy from the ground and pressed a kiss on his forehead.

"I've got a new toy, Papa," the child said proudly.

Regina's smile broadened. It was amazing how quickly children could recover sometimes. If there was the slightest chance Roland could escape possible nightmares after this horrid experience, all the better for it.

The children were waiting huddled together in the hallway. She hurried forward as Robin, with Roland in his arms, stopped to coax the scared, mistrustful bunch onward. Her knees were wobbly as she braved the steps, and there seemed not a shred of power left in her. There'd better be no more obstacles… She'd make sure to clear the path before Robin and the freed children followed.

Where she was headed next, she was asking for trouble. The Witch might have seemed intent on leaving, but it was well possible Regina'd find her back in her chamber once again. But she needed to get there, nonetheless - she needed to gather all the magic she could reasonably carry in case she needed it in the future, which was entirely too possible. Robin would get the children out while she did so, and she'd join them later - he wouldn't like what she was up to anyway. Besides, he had just been reunited with his son - no one in their right mind would waste time wondering about her whereabouts in such a moment. She was on her own.

* * *

The night air was fresh and smelled of smoke. Torches flickered in the courtyard, and parents worried sick swooned with relief as they rushed to reclaim their lost children. They'd all had at least one parent make a desperate attempt at freeing them, either by offering ransom or themselves in exchange, and the Witch'd had them all jailed until Robin'd freed them on his way to the dungeon yard. He watched the teary-eyed families slowly scatter as they set out on their way home.

Robin stroked Roland's hair, relishing the touch of it, the feel of his son in his arms, safe and - more or less - sound. Oh, how he'd missed him, what a torture it had been! His heart seemed on the verge of bursting with love.

Yet something was off.

He watched as the last family made its way through the gate, in an apparent rush to get off the accursed premises as soon as possible. How was it possible, though? How could they just - go? There had been a protective shield raised around the palace. Perhaps it only worked one way…or maybe not?

"Roland, have you seen Regina?" Roland shook his head, then rested it on Robin's shoulder again. He was trying to stay up, but would probably doze of in a matter of minutes. Robin wished for nothing more than putting him to sleep and watching him for hours, making up for all those days they'd spent separated.

She should be here by now - she had gone first, after all. So where could she be? When they were leaving the dungeons, she was barely standing up - she'd of course done everything to keep that well concealed, but nevertheless she had been exhausted, and the idea of her roaming the palace on her own was deeply troubling. Surely she hadn't done anything foolish…or dangerous. Who was he kidding? Regina was beyond doubt the most obstinate and quick-tempered person he had ever had the fortune of meeting.

Robin looked around. One of the prisoners was tagging along, and it turned out she'd lived in the palace for years and knew of a secret chamber she was planning to hide in with her daughter for the night. The woman immediately agreed to keep Roland with them while Robin was away.

_Regina, where the hell are you?_

This was a terrible time to have to leave Roland's side, and on top of worry, Robin had annoyance to cope with. She could have at least said something. They were supposed to work together after all. Well, they had. She'd now fulfilled her part of the deal - even done more than he could have expected. If someone had until now shirked his commitment, it was him - there hadn't been much information relayed about the Witch from his side. That would change, of course, he had no intention of going back on his word, only he had focused so hard on Roland, and his information wasn't immediately usable anyway…

A blast of icy wind made the hair at the back of his neck stand up. _Damn_. His senses prickled. Something was amiss. This wasn't an ordinary blast of wind. If they were lucky, it had been Regina's doing. If not…

For an unguarded moment, he saw her on a rearing grey, jumping a hurdle, wielding a fireball, outsmarting snakes and bees and crows, holding Roland with the protectiveness of a lioness.

His throat tightened and his pace quickened. He stormed past shards of glass in the hallway with his sword at the ready, and followed the corridor into the heart of the palace. Experience of a thief had taught him how palaces were built, where the royal quarters were usually positioned - and that they were mostly protected. The latter might not be an issue if Regina had indeed come this way - the Witch's charms would be undone and Regina would have had no time - or, possibly, worryingly, energy - to spare to put up her own.

The large double door loomed before him, dark and emanating cold - and slightly ajar. The torches were all out. Cold crept into his bones, and Robin broke into a run. When he was only a few steps away, a wail issued frpm the chamber, shrill at first, then in changed into a gurgling moan.

Robin broke into the room at full sprint, looking around wildly. Regina was nowhere in sight, but something else was: a peculiar darkness looming over something on the floor, hidden behind the large four-poster bed. As Robin blinked, the shape moved, and Robin found himself staring into a pair of grim red eyes. The face of whatever the monster was turned away, and a trickle of…something bright and misty issued from its mouth. No, not from its mouth - into it.

A wave of shock rattled him, and his legs moved of their own volition. He raised the sword high above his head and struck down on the spectre. Yet at the contact of metal and ghostly black, the thing merely shrugged it off. Robin couldn't defeat it, and he should have known - this was it, the soul-sucker demon Mulan had mentioned to him once. Nothing could vanquish what was already dead.

But Regina…no, he couldn't just leave her, of course he wouldn't, even though he had no clue how to deal with this monster, try he would.

The spectre floated in the air and lowered itself above the object that had to be Regina. Robin swung his sword again, even though it would be to no avail - his mind worked feverishly, grasping at straws, but even those were too few and too shabby to hold on to. Would Regina know what to do? Could magic be the answer? It didn't matter, because neither of them was in any shape to perform any right now. With Regina out of the game, there was no one here this time to conjure a sandstorm or raise a wall of fire.

_Fire_.

The blasted torches were out all along the corridor, but perhaps there was something left in here. His eyes darted across the room as he swung and swung his sword at the wraith, barely succeeding in keeping it away from Regina. The grate was cold and dead with not a distant memory of a fire. _Damn!_ Perhaps a candle, then? Robin's heart leapt as his eyes found a flickering light at the dressing table. The wraith was beginning to lose interest in his feeble attempts at delaying it. Robin grabbed a dead torch form its holder and held it to the candle. _Come on!_ The light danced around the torch but wasn't catching. _Come on, light up!_

The wraith closed in on the unconscious form of Regina on the floor. This was the last chance, if he couldn't get the torch to burn, he'd just have to risk pestering the damned ghost with just his blade - probably with less and less success. He couldn't wait any longer. _Light up, damn you!_ He snatched the torch away from the humble candle, and was blinded by a flame suddenly springing to life. It had worked.

Robin let out an elated shout as he waved the flaming torch through the air. The wraith shrank away as the flame licked the black folds of its rotten cloak. Robin leapt forward, attacking again and again, pushing the wraith further back, away from him, away from Regina. Then the wraith's eyes glowed a brighter red - so bright it threatened to split his skull with its intensity - and, with one last hungry look towards Regina's body, whizzed out through the window with a mighty whoosh.

Robin slid the torch in a holder and rushed to her side. Regina lay lifeless on the floor as she'd landed, entangled in her own cloak, her eyes closed, and her dark, loosened hair framing her ashen face. Robin grabbed her hand and searched for a pulse, barely breathing as he did. There it was. _Thank heavens_.

"Regina," he implored, but she didn't stir. He snatched the wineskin from his belt, dripped a few drops of water on his hand, and washed her face carefully. _Come on, wake up_. She had to wake. This was bold, audacious Regina - she wouldn't give up so easily, she had to wake. She had to.

"Regina!" he called again, more forcefully, and shook her slightly - but still nothing happened.

They said a soul-sucker didn't kill one but 'just' removed one's soul - a fate worse than death. There'd been this stream of weird substance floating between the wraith and Regina when he'd entered…. Was he too late? No, that couldn't be!

He wrapped his arms around her and brought his face close to hers. He listened. Her weak, interrupted breathing barely registered, yet the feel of it on his cheek made his heart clench. Maybe if he only got her out of here… Perhaps some leftover of the wraith's presence lingered even after it had gone, making recovery impossible.

Robin held Regina closer and pressed her to him, ready to carry her, and made to stand up when he felt her body spasm against his. What was this? Did he hurt her? He brushed the hair from her face just in time to see her eyes flicker open.

"Regina…" he breathed, overflowing with relief. Then a shred of panic returned to him: she was alive, but was she…alright?

Her eyes darted from his face to the ceiling to the door, and back to him again.

"Where is it?" she whispered -but only barely, and shifted in his arms - but only barely.

"Gone," he said, squeezing her hand. He could only imagine her confusion and shock. But she was safe now, and Robin couldn't stop the smile form spreading on his face.

"How?"

"Fire."

She nodded, and let her eyes close again for a moment.

"Why'd you come back?" she whispered after a while.

She couldn't possibly be serious. Did she really think he cared so little about her that he'd leave her behind? What a terrible thought. He was still having trouble breathing through the emotional upheaval. Did she not understand?

Understand what, though?

Robin looked down at her face. Colour was slowly returning to her cheeks, but her eyes were still closed. Strands of her hair were wrapped around his forearm, soft and silky. It was only then that he became aware of the feel of her in his arms. The fabric of her dress brushed against his skin, but that was nothing - he was still holding her hand. His skin tingled and warmed beyond reasonable as he continued to hold her.

She opened her eyes and looked at him strangely - he still hadn't answered her question.

"We missed you," he said simply. "Why did you come back here?"

He frowned: it hadn't occurred to him before, but perhaps she wanted to be left behind. She'd fulfilled her part of the deal after all. Yet Robin had somehow, at some point, come to believe they'd stay a team even after recovering Roland. Perhaps she had different plans. His heart sank.

"I…" she hesitated. Their eyes locked, and he could swear he could almost see himself reflected in the brown depths of those eyes of hers. He had no thought of looking away. They were such enticing eyes, they seemed to run rich and deep, and made him see what they meant by saying that eyes were a window to a person's soul. For a long moment, she held his gaze, then her eyes widened as a shadow of panic crossed them. "I wanted to retrieve something," she finished, looking away, and wriggled free of his arms. Robin let go immediately, though not with a certain indistinct sense of loss. Her eyes darted to the dressing table. "It's still there, right?"

"Is what there?" It had to be important, judging by the look of her.

She made to stand up but stumbled. Robin grabbed her hand while she steadied herself, and after a moment she slipped away and crossed to the dressing table. She gave no sign of weakness, but her gait still bore remnants of her plight - which she was reluctant to admit to, apparently. Such stubbornness - foolish. Such tenacity - admirable. Regina leaned on the table, supporting herself cleverly, and rummaged about its contents.

"Damn! It's gone."

"What is it?"

"My sleeping potion. Someone took it!" Anger flared in her and coloured her cheeks crimson. It was a welcome sight after the whey complexion of shortly before. "Wraiths hardly have need for such things, or the means to carry them away."

"I saw no one else." So that's what she'd come back for? Magic? What ever could Regina possibly want with a sleeping potion? Perhaps to use it against the Witch. Well, they couldn't afford to waste resources, whatever they be.

"Anything else gone?"

"No, just the one thing. It's hard to make, I'm probably the only one left alive to know how to."

That didn't bode well - if it was dangerous in Regina's hands, it was an even bigger threat in the enemy's. They were going to have to be all the more careful.

"Can you make a new one?"

"No, I have no more ingredients," she smashed a small vial against the wall - but that was as much as she had energy to spare on. Her shoulders sagged slightly. "I used them all because the ready product's easier to carry around than the ingredients."

She raised her eyes from the poor contents of the table and fixed him with a gaze.

"Roland?" she asked.

Robin willed them all out of here stronger than ever.

"You know that hidden chamber by the courtyard?"

"Of course." She looked about the room once more, shook her head slightly, sending her hair trailing down her back, grabbed the torch Robin had lit after so much struggle, and made towards the door. "Let's go, then. Time for you to properly enjoy your son."


	13. Turning Tide

_This has been one of the most anticipated chapters for me to write, so I'm quite anxious to see how you guys like it. There's some slightly coarser language - well the word "damn" makes several appearances, just in case you have issues with that, you have been warned. Thanks for your support so far!_

* * *

A peal of laughter rang through the small stone-carved room as Roland was tossed in the air, then landed safely in Robin's arms again.

The little boy had woken from a light though so much needed sleep as soon as they entered the secret chamber, and clung to his father ever since. Robin ruffled his hair playfully, making Roland chuckle and hide his face into Robin's shoulder.

Regina wrung her hands, her eyes hot form a sharp stinging sensation. It would be so much easier to not witness this joyous reunion. Everything she saw, everything she heard, everything those two felt - she would never have. Yet every time she forced herself to look away, her eyes were irresistibly drawn back to Roland's tired but twinkling eyes, or Robin's face glowing with happiness. It was bizarre, but the clichéd metaphor was actually accurate. The broad smile seemed to be glued to his face even as he caught her eye and gave her a full smile. At the same time, a tear rolled down is cheek, and Regina turned away - but continued to see their image in the stone floor she was staring at anyway. This Robin was almost a different man to the one she'd seen so far - and yet he had never been so familiar. She had never understood him more than at this particular moment. His son meant the world to him, and without him, he would be lost. He deserved this. They both did. But that didn't stop the pain tearing at her insides, nor did it put out the sparks of envy singing her chest with every breath she took.

"Papa, I don't want to go to sleep," Roland's voice rang through the stuffy air in response to a few words his father had whispered in his ear.

"Shhh, someone's sleeping," Robin said, pointing out the little girl and her mother curled up in one corner.

"Sorry," Roland muttered in a child's whisper - a whisper so loud Regina still heard every single syllable clearly. "But we should play. You were away long."

Emotions played on Robin's face in rapid succession. For a moment, he said nothing, just held Roland closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"We will, I promise. But first you need to sleep."

Roland's eyes were barely open to a slit, yet the child still kept protesting.

"And you promise you won't leave?"

"We're going back to the Merry Men together, alright? How d'you like that?"

"Very."

"Good. But we can only set out once you've woken up. So you need to go to sleep first, right?"

Robin carried Roland back to the hides strewn on the floor and covered him with a warm fur. The child's dark eyes peeked out from above the rim, darting around the room.

Regina quickly cast down her eyes and pretended to not be there. He was adorable, and she'd felt very protective of him down in the dungeons - it shocked her how much. She smiled at the memory of his arms around her neck, seeking safety in her embrace. For some reason, he trusted her, not simply with a child's innocence - he trusted Regina despite what he had just been put through by the green bitch, who must have seemed similar in his eyes. Perhaps that was why Regina had clung to him so. But that was over now. Roland was safe and he had his father, she was nothing to him.

And she…she had Henry. Sort of. He might not remember her, but she still remembered him, and it was him her heart was overflowing with love for. Nothing could ever replace him…

Was that it, was she seeing a smaller version of Henry in Roland? Probably. Although there were plenty of differences, of course. It didn't matter, anyway. Whatever it all was, it made her heart hurt even more. It would be best to distance herself from the boy. Children had been known to end up all the worse for being around her too much anyway.

"Regina," Roland said aloud, forgetting to whisper. He'd found her in the small confines of the chamber, of course, no matter how hard she'd been trying to blend with the wall behind her.

She could just ignore him…except she couldn't. Instead, she raised her head, her mind a jumble. She met Robin's eyes in passing - he still had a smile playing on his lips. Heavens, why was she so full of tension? Was she overreacting? Was this crazy? Roland was just a little boy after all.

He wriggled under the fur and rubbed his eyes. He was barely awake, but he was a tenacious little guy.

"Will you tell me a story?" he asked. "Please?" The word came out sounding more like "pwease", and it started an emotional meltdown the magnitude of which weighed her down in a matter of a second.

Robin's smile faded a little at the sight of her, and after giving her a concerned look that only made her want to disappear even more, he turned to Roland.

"Maybe another time, buddy. How about I tell you one now?"

Concern or not, considerateness or not, it mattered nothing to her. She didn't even care whether he'd interpreted her distress correctly or mistook it for ruthlessness - in fact, it was hard to tell which would be the worse. It didn't matter. She just needed out, and fast.

Robin's quiet, soothing voice filled the room: "Once upon a time, there was…"

But what there was Regina would never know, because she dashed out of the chamber into the night.

* * *

With her ears buzzing and her head as good as bursting, she paced the courtyard up and down, swallowing mouthfuls of cold air, forcing chaos out and begging for calm to return - but this had never been easy for her. She needed to stop this whirlwind of feelings she didn't know how to deal with. She wasn't here to play happy family with Roland and Robin. She'd come to help rescue him - nothing more, nothing less.

Had her cold response to his perfectly sweet request hurt the child?

Regina groaned in frustration. Her knuckles where white with effort, her fingers clenched around the fabric of her dress. She forced them to relax their grip, and ran her fingertips across the shabby paper of the picture she treasured so much. It was the only place where she and Henry were and always would be together - besides, of course, in her heart.

Despite the agony, there was also something nice and warm tugging at her heart. Down in the dungeons, when she'd thought she couldn't go on anymore, that magic had failed her once again and she'd in turn fail the children she'd set out to free, the mere though of Henry had brought about a surge of love so powerful it pumped new strength into her veins. _Magic is about emotion._

_Love is strength_.

If only it didn't come with such unbearable pain, such devastating purposelessness.

Still the Witch believed Regina had something left she would miss. _I'm going to take everything away from you_. She'd lost so much. Daniel, Daddy, Mother, and now Henry - her entire family was gone. For a very long time, she had even lost herself, and even now it was hard to sculpt herself into a Regina she'd come to want to be. When the New Curse had hit, she'd believed everything had come to an end for her.

_I'm going to take everything away from you_.

What could it possibly be? What did she have left? Was there anything that had made her feel even remotely happy, or at least mitigated her sorrow, in the past weeks?

Snow. Tinkerbell. Granny. Robin. Roland. The woman who was staying the night in the secret chamber with them, and had insisted on thanking Regina a dozen times over for her daughter's return. People who didn't write her off as a villain anymore.

Acceptance.

The realisation made Regina stop in her tracks. She'd never have thought this could happen, but it seemed to be true: they really were slowly growing to accept her - and she them. And that meant something to her. A small gasp escaped her. Only now did she see how much that meant to her, and how much she wanted it.

Was this what the Witch had in mind? Was she trying to undermine what little hard-earned trust people were beginning to have in Regina, to foil her attempts at improvement? The atrocities committed in Regina's name would certainly support the theory.

But what about the unicorn, and the Agrabah vipers? Those had been for Regina only. They'd been meant to unnerve her - and they had, to no end. The memory of the staged replays still brought cold beads of sweat to her brow. The heart marked the beginning of her descent into darkness, and the vipers were the administrators of her first plotted murder - not an impulsive, heat-of-the-moment kill, but one done in cold blood.

She'd done it to be free. But she'd had no love lost for Leopold. He should have seen her reservations, her anguish, and her misery. He was supposed to be a good man, and he'd done nothing but punish her for the unhappiness he had also played a part in.

Why did the Witch want to remind her of this?

To make her lose heart? To make her feel small and lost, the way she had when she became Rumple's apprentice, and Leopold's wife? Or to show her that her past would always haunt her and hold her back? That she was a villain, no matter what she did?

Regina sank onto the edge of the fountain. The marble was cold and lifeless against her body. She felt the same on the inside. The stone was cracked, the varnish chipped, and the tinkling water had long since dried up. The once gorgeous fountain was just a sad ghost of its past glory. Regina ran her palm along the jagged edge of the basin. _You and me, we're the same_.

On closer look, however, the mechanism didn't seem to be irreparable. If someone only bothered to clean it up a little and set it to work, water would pour out of the taps and bring the fountain back to life. The cracks would always be there, but they could be fixed. The marble would bear scars, but they'd be signs of survival. It'd still work as good as new, and be all the more intriguing for the stories it carried.

Perhaps she could be fixed, too. Perhaps she could fix herself, despite what the Witch was apparently suggesting.

Why would the Witch do it all? As far as Regina was concerned, they had never met before. The Witch had called her "sis" – Regina had heard it well, even though she'd pretended otherwise. It was rubbish, of course - she had no family left, and certainly not a sister. It had always been just her - and heavens, how many times she'd wished she'd had someone! With Cora's iron rule over her life, Regina had never been lucky enough to even have a friend, not to mention a sister. Surely she'd know. Her mother had kept a lot of things to herself, but even she would not have kept this information from Regina...surely...she wouldn't.

The way Regina saw it, there was no reason at all for this Witch to hate her more than the next person hated the Evil Queen. But that wasn't it. Whatever the green bitch had against her was personal. If only Regina knew what it was, she would be able to defend herself better.

Steps approached from behind, and Regina tensed. It could only be Robin - or a foe. She wasn't in the mood for either. She'd had enough fighting for one night. Robin would ask questions, and soul-searching was difficult enough to do just in her mind.

"May I?"

By the sound of it, he'd come all the way to the fountain. Despite herself, she was glad it wasn't another flying monkey - or so it appeared. The thought amused her, yet made her forehead crease - if the beats could take on the form of a child, they could probably take on the form of anyone else as well. They'd better keep that in mind.

"Suit yourself."

Robin sat, running a hand along the cracked stone basin much like she had done just moments before. It left her feeling strangely exposed. Exposure was always dangerous. Like fighting, there'd been plenty of this for a night as well. Robin seemed to have been noticing more than most, she'd read it in his look now and again. He'd seen too much of her before tonight, but even more now. Maybe a tiny niche of her heart was glad for it, but that wasn't the prevailing part anyway.

The wretched vipers - they'd made it all worse.

Regina rose and, without looking at him once, walked all the way to the edge of the terrace.

"How do you people deal with this team work thing all the time?" she burst out. "At least when I worked alone I didn't have to keep looking over my shoulder worrying about someone all the time. It's driving me crazy!"

"It has its perks," Robin said. "Someone's constantly looking over their shoulder to check on you, for one."

The wraith's cape hovered over her face once more, those eyes haunting her still, and she shook the memory off. What the wraith had to offer was a fate that had no appeal to her whatsoever, even in the most crushed state - you never knew what would happen to you after that demon was finished devouring your soul.

"Thank you for that," she muttered.

"And you, for protecting Roland."

Regina finally turned to him. Now was her time to see straight into his heart. When he talked about Roland, or looked at him, or ached for him - she understood. Even now she understood the depth of his gratefulness - perhaps that was why she succumbed to the urge to look away. So she nodded, and kept her head down.

"You saved him. From nightmares as well. He's asleep curled up with his monkey."

There was a smile in his voice, and indeed it was hard not to smile at the image of the child snuggled up with the toy she'd procured for him by such unusual means - one of her better ideas. Roland had seen the bees, true, but those had been done away with fairly smoothly, and perhaps the only consequence would be some fear of the insect. But from his hideout, the child hadn't seen the bloody death of the crows or the blood-curdling den of snakes, so banishing his fear of the winged monster had seemed like a good idea.

Robin stood up and began to walk towards her, and presently his boots came in sight as her head was still bowed. She didn't want to look at him, didn't want to talk to him - but her eyes darted up to meet his anyway. That niche in her heart was supposed to be negligible, so why was it winning out?

"I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable…for whatever reason."

_Then you shouldn't have come here_. But come he had. It shouldn't matter - he hadn't even done anything upsetting, really.

"I guess I'm not used to people expressing gratefulness towards me - or having any reason to feel the need to, for that matter." This time they did have a reason, but that still didn't change the fact that she had no idea how to handle it.

His look lingered, and although it wasn't prying per se, it still seemed to be burning holes into her. Inconceivably, though, she couldn't tear her eyes from him. Then Robin reached towards her in a smooth motion, and his fingers tangled in her hair - she still hadn't had the chance to fix it back into the updo ever since they'd left the wraith-marked chamber behind. A slight chill ran through her. What…? He tucked the strand of hair back to place and held up a small budding twig between his fingers. She caught the small sigh too late to stop it. He'd only removed a twig from her hair, that was all. Well, what had she thought it had been?

A small spark of panic flared up inside her, but there was something else, too - and that was even scarier, so scary she was forcing it to the very edge of her being even now.

Robin's look shifted for a moment and indicated the whole wide world, for all she could tell.

"Did you remove it?" he asked softly.

Her mind was blank.

"The protection shield….?" he added.

"I- I removed it on the way to my chamber... so everyone could come and go."

Why had she stuttered? It hadn't been an invasive question. There'd been no threat whatsoever in it. Then why was she so damn terrified?

Robin let the little twig fall, and Regina followed its path as it landed at their feet.

"Are you alright?"

She looked at him, searching for some hidden meaning in his eyes but finding none. What was he saying? Oh, the shield. He was asking about the protection charm - it had been probably what had drained her last power reserves before the wraith had attacked. He was just being considerate.

"Of course." The words came out hoarse. _Just_ considerate? People weren't usually that, either. Then again, very few had ever stood this close to her, too. "Of course, I'm fine."

But her voice was still funny. Robin must have thought so, too, for he tilted his head slightly with a curious look. He brought his hand to her face. What, another twig? It seemed unlikely, and yet what else- ?

A finger caressed her face, and his thumb travelled down to her chin. Regina froze - only her hands shook a little. Even that stopped, however, when his hand brushed against hers. He searched her face, possibly for a response, but she was too stunned to react in any way. Robin slipped his hand into hers. The contact finally unfroze her again, but instead of slipping away like she should, she let her hand rest in his and let the warmth flood her. She should just…she should really not…but… He smelled like forest, fresh and woodsy, and his eyes looked so alive. And then there were his lips… His fingers still traced her cheek and jaw, and she found herself leaning into his touch.

A low, barely audible hum shook them both awake. Robin's hand snapped in the air as he caught something small and almost invisible in the dark in his now closed fist.

"Just a bee," he shrugged with a small smile, though he'd barely looked, and he opened his fist to allow her a peek.

Regina saw very little, though that had probably even less to do with the actual line of sight and more with the rushing sense of doom descending upon her. It was an insect of the regular size, and Robin set it free.

Meanwhile, Regina turned her back on him, crossed to the fountain and leaned on it.

What had _that_ been all about?

They'd talked, and then he'd removed a twig from her hair - that was all. That was no reason to freak out. Those things happened all the time, and they didn't mean a thing.

When was the last time something like this happened to her?

They'd only talked.

And held hands. And he stroked her face. And she let it happen, and she leaned to him until they were so close their breaths mingled. If it hadn't been for that stupid bee, they might have actually… Wait, what? They might have what?

_Kissed. We might have…kissed._

Was he a good kisser? Probably. Those lips of his…

Regina gripped the cold marble of the fountain.

_Damn._ She liked him. _Oh, damn_. When had this happened? It had been a while. The signs had all been there, except she didn't want to see them.

"Regina? Anything wrong?"

So what did she do now? Did she bolt?

"No," she raised her head defiantly, only to find him looking her straight in the face. When did he get there? And just how readable had her face been in those unguarded moments? "I…" Her cheeks burned. _Oh, for heavens' sake_. What was she, a smitten teenager?

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're feeling somewhat awkward right now, milady." The impish glint in his eyes and his half-grin were vast evidence of a jibe, but instead of some sharp-witted, or even flirtatious retort, Regina found herself too busy fighting the urge to caress those dimples of his.

What the hell was wrong with her? This had certainly not happened before. Was this getting worse? Or was it just because she'd finally admitted there was a…something…there?

Robin's smile faded at the slight frown on her face, and those startling eyes of his bore into hers. Foolish thoughts raced through her mind: what if she kissed him? The thought sent a jolt of panic through her, yet there was also a warm tingle in her stomach. If he pushed her away, at least this nonsense would end before it even started, and she wouldn't have to wonder anymore.

Before she could make up her mind, Robin stepped to her and laid a hand on her cheek. Her breath hitched at the touch. He was so close. Did she want him this close? No…she wanted him closer. _Damn_. What was she getting herself into?

She took his hand, pulling it away from her face and holding it in both of hers.

"Regina?" he said softly - she could barely hear it, the word was just a breath of wind.

Anyone else would already have seized the chance and dived for the kiss. Clearly, he wasn't just anyone. Or did he not want to kiss her? Maybe this was all in her head. Maybe he wasn't the least bit attracted to her. Or maybe he was - she was attractive enough - but still wasn't interested. Yes, that had to be it.

She looked up at him and missed a heartbeat at the intensity of his look.

He did want to…and he wasn't rushing it. That had to mean something, but she couldn't bear finishing the thought just now. Another thing she couldn't bear was the piercing blue of those warm eyes. Heavens, she was blushing like a little girl. Her gaze dropped to his hand still in hers just as his other one came to rest lightly on her waist. Without realising it, she moved closer to him. His fingers entwined with hers, and she rested her hand on his wrist, still not meeting his eye.

His sleeve slipped a little. A small jolt of power ran through her. A flash of black glimpsed from the corner of her eye later, she retracted her hand. No… She was jumping to conclusions, this was absurd...impossible. Wide-eyed and with her heart beating wildly, she slowly pushed the sleeve further up his arm. She gasped.

A tavern door, the glow of fire and pixie dust, a man's back and his outstretched arm bearing a strange picture. The anticipation, the nerves, and above all the fear. The door slamming shut, and the night air filling her lungs as she'd run from a fate she couldn't bear hoping for.

No. No, this couldn't be!

The rush of blood in her ears deafened her. Her heart froze and her skin erupted in goosebumps. She pushed him away wildly, pulling back from his touch.

"Regina," Robin protested, steadying himself after he'd been knocked against the fountain's black stone. "What ha-?"

She turned around and, never a care for how she must have appeared to him then, ran towards the palace.

* * *

She didn't stop until the winter garden. The bench was damp and covered in dead leaves, but Regina only saw black ink on skin as she sank onto it. The image floated before her eyes as if it had been burnt into her retina, no matter how hard she tried to block it out.

The man with the lion tattoo. Robin was the man from the tavern from all those years ago, the man she'd run from without ever even having talked to him, because she'd been scared out of her wits.

And now they'd met again. They'd been travelling together for a while, he'd been right under her nose, and she'd never even known.

And, worst of all, she had feelings for him.

No. This had to stop. She didn't need any of this. There was no place for love in her bleeding heart, and certainly not now any more than then. Especially not for anything so…big. And scary. And most likely not meant to be anyway. Tinkerbell had been wrong, she couldn't be happy. Evey time it seemed she might, she'd lose all that mattered.

Stupid pixie dust for having led her to him in the first place. Stupid Tinkerbell for showing her a possible fate Regina still couldn't bear thinking of. Stupid tattoo. Stupid Robin for being so kind and attractive and passionate. Stupid feelings for occurring uninvited. Stupid, stupid Regina.

Why'd he come back for her? Couldn't he just mind his own business? And why, why did the pestilential man come out of the hidden chamber after her at all? Hadn't it been for that, she'd never know about the tattoo, she'd never have realised she was interested in him this way...or any way. She'd just wanted to be left alone.

She was alone now. There was nothing but darkness and the eerie shapes of shrubs and trees outside the cracked glass dome of the garden.

Robin hadn't followed her here.

* * *

His fingers beat a steady, nervous rhythm on the bark of the tree he was leaning against. He glared at the fountain partly covered by branches. Perhaps he should have chased after her after all, instead of changing his mind after just a few steps. No, it was better this way. What could he have done anyway?

He seemed to be getting nowhere with her at moments like this, when she was extremely distressed. She'd either deny or lash out or hide, or a combination of those. At least until now he'd mostly been able to see what had triggered her reaction: memories of her son, the gruesome fate of the unicorn, the village in ruin - he knew little about what exactly went down inside her, but he knew it had to do with her past. This, now, however - he was left entirely in the dark.

What could have upset her so? True, he'd seen her pull back when someone got too close before - that was why he'd chosen to probe so carefully. He hadn't even kissed her yet, though they'd been close.

He swallowed. It was hard to stomach - sure, she was attractive, and very much so, he'd seen that right from the start of course, but this was more than that. Back there with the wraith, when the air had been punched out of him at the thought of having come too late, something had finally clicked into place. What exactly it was remained to be figured out... Or maybe not, after tonight.

Robin pushed up the sleeve of his tunic and squinted at the familiar ink drawing. Absurd though it seemed, it had been his tattoo that had sent Regina to flight. Did it mean anything to her? As far as he knew, the tattoo had no special significance other than the very personal meaning he attributed to it. Perhaps it had woken some memories in her, though, like the unicorn and the snakes must have. If so, hopefully she'd be able to work through this, hopefully it'd all be cleared up.

Robin's feet itched to go after her. To do what, exactly? To offer her comfort? To see if she was alright? What could he possibly say or do? Besides, he'd already followed her to the courtyard, and what good had come out of that?

Well, that had been different - Roland's presence definitely made Regina think of Henry, and Robin's luck at having found him of her own hopeless situation. He should have paid more attention - but he was so happy. And what could he have done to ease her pain?

What could he do now? It would be the third time tonight that he'd follow her where he wasn't supposed to. The first time had been fortunate - the wraith had been chased away. The second time had been a fiasco, though. The third time, he would just respect her need for privacy.

Robin's legs moved reluctantly across the lawn and the courtyard, and through the secret door. Roland was sleeping peacefully, so was the mother-daughter pair. Regina wasn't back yet. Not that he'd expected her to have returned, but his heart still sank a little. They'd both be calmer in the morning. They'd work this out in the morning.

* * *

Even as Regina was marching back to the secret chamber, Tinkerbell's voice shaped into words of reproof and rang in her ears, as if the fairy was in fact not miles away doing who knew what, but actually by her side, chiding her for what she was about to do.

Regina was running again. Her pride suffered at the thought, and not just her pride. Part of her knew she should stay, part of her even wanted to stay - but still the fear was stronger. She had nothing. Even if she could have something, could it be good enough? Not for her - good things were always snatched away from her. And never without Henry, anyway. And it was better to have nothing than risk gaining something only to lose it all again.

Her hand went out in the blackness of the chamber, a spell ready to muffle the sounds of her arrival and immediate departure. In the end, she just let her hand fall back to her side.

There wasn't much to pack, just a bag to grab and go. No one stirred. Perhaps Robin wasn't even back yet. Perhaps he was asleep. She gave herself a moment to try and make out his breathing and Roland's - but she couldn't look at them. Regina moved to the door, her boots louder than reasonable on the stone floor. Still, no one stirred.

No one seemed to miss her after all. Maybe Roland would ask after her in the morning. Maybe Robin would look for her. Neither would find her anymore.

Come morning, she'd be long gone.

* * *

_On a side note, the "almost kiss" scene, like the rest of the chapter, had been outlined long before the sneak peek with Regina and Robin in Storybrooke of 3x15 aired, so the fact that there are certain similarities is quite amusing to me. The actual scene with Lana and Sean is of course far more perfect than my version could be, but I hope I didn't do too badly anyway. :)  
_


	14. With or Without You

_First of all, thanks to all who take the time to review. I've had some really lovely responses and, make no mistake - they do make my day. That said, perhaps I should warn you the next few chapters will continue to be heavy on Regina & Robin interaction. I hope that's a good thing - right? ;)_

* * *

Feeling Roland's warm little body snuggled into him in the morning was the most wonderful thing in the world. Robin's smile only grew at the sight of the boy hugging the stuffed monkey to him even in his sleep. What a wonderful idea of Regina's that had been.

_Regina_.

Robin propped himself on his elbow carefully and peered into the near-darkness. He groaned. If she wasn't here, where was she? As worry sank its claws into him, he rubbed his forehead. He needed to stay calm. Perhaps she'd chosen to spend the night at the palace alone rather than here with them. The palace wasn't safe, though. What if the soul-sucker returned? Or the Witch? Who knew what other dangers lurked within the palace walls.

He began to work on pulling his arm from beneath the sleeping Roland's neck inch by inch, his mind plotting out a plan: he'd start at the gazebo, retrace her steps to where she'd run, and try to track her down from there - her chamber first, and then...

The bag. Having finally managed to get up without waking Roland, he crossed the short distance to where it had last sat the previous night. It wasn't there anymore.

Robin cursed under his breath.

Why, why would she do this? And where had she gone? Did she yearn for a hermit's life for a while, or was she plunging into some dangerous mission, some foolish undertaking? He still didn't know what had happened between her and the Witch. Perhaps Regina had decided to go against her alone. Even on her best form, it would be risky. In the shape she was in, it could easily be a suicide mission.

Well, he wasn't going to stand for that.

Robin woke the family of two, shared some of the food he still had left, and saw them off on their way home. The sun was high up in the sky by the time he returned to the sleeping Roland, who hadn't as much as shifted positions since - he had to be absolutely exhausted. Ideally, Robin would let him rest to the fullest, but now he had no choice but to get going - the palace wasn't safe for them anyway. He packed what little they had in moments, then hoisted Roland into his arms complete with the fur he was wrapped in, and set off.

Regina had been too careless or too distraught or too tired to cover up her tracks, so it wasn't hard to see which way she was headed. It was the way they had planned to take after Roland was with them, back to Aurora and Philip's palace to rejoin the others. Roland's head on his shoulder bobbed a little with every step Robin took. A low murmur escaped him once, but it was enough for Robin to rub his back and he went back to sleep. It was easier this way - Roland couldn't walk very fast, and Robin needed to make as much progress as possible.

The solitary journey gave Robin plenty of time for soul-searching.

If he wanted to be honest with himself, there was no denying anymore that he had feelings for Regina that went beyond platonic as well as physical attraction. The ebb and flow of guilt made it all the more difficult to admit. This was the first time since his beloved Marian's death that he'd experienced any kind of romantic stirrings at all. He'd never stop loving his wife, but it seemed his heart had life enough in it, and room enough, for love again.

Could Regina and he eventually fall in love? Robin couldn't be sure. Did Regina even feel the same way? The day before had given him no clear answers. There had been hope, yes, plenty of anticipation, and butterflies he'd never really thought he'd experience at this age. She'd let him closer than ever before, and not just physically. But then she'd pulled away with a force that left little doubt as to whether she was up for this or not.

Yet there had been something in her eyes, in the way she'd touched him, that kept the hope alive. Maybe she did reciprocate. Maybe she just wasn't ready for this so soon after the loss of her child. He could understand that. He could wait. There was no reason for her to flee; of course he'd respect her wish if she said she wanted nothing at present. Perhaps he should have thought about it sooner, before he'd tried anything. But alas, Robin wasn't a mind-reader; he could only go on his best guess.

Right now, his best guess was that they were further away from each other now than ever before.

That was no reason to give up, though.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Regina."

Regina winced, and the cool spring water she'd just gathered into her cupped hands sloshed down the front of her dress. He'd approached quietly as a shadow, and even though there had always been a chance of him catching up with her, she hadn't expected it to be so soon. Her stomach jolted at the prospect of facing his prying eyes and intrusive questions.

Robin stepped from between the trees, Roland tucked in the fur asleep in his arms. Regina's eyes flew to Robin's wrist. The sleeve was pulled down, so she couldn't see it, but it was there alright.

"What are you doing here?"

He should never have come after her, looking so endearing with his son slung over his shoulder. There was not a hint of anger in his features. His calm only fuelled the desperate irritation bubbling up inside her. What business did he have following her around? Hadn't her silent departure been statement enough?

"Taking a break on the road, like yourself," he answered simply. "It's our first one, though, so if you don't mind we could make it a little longer."

"Suit yourself. I'll be on my way."

Not that she hadn't only just arrived and settled down on a dried-up stump to rest her aching feet. His coming changed everything, though, for she certainly wasn't staying around him and letting last night's misstep repeat itself. No way.

"Regina, I'm sorry if I did something to upset you last night."

"I'm not upset, I'm...focused." Ugh, even she wouldn't believe that.

Robin eyed her a moment. For the first time, he appeared tense as he licked his lips and spoke quietly.

"Is this about Henry? If you need-"

"Don't bring Henry into this!" The amount of guilt wasn't exactly small - she had almost gone to have a love affair so soon after her son was gone. True, Henry was on her mind every minute of every day, but still, how could she ever have thought of having a place in her heart for someone else? It felt like betrayal.

Robin looked stumped for a moment, and that was her chance. To do what? The thing she did when she was scared of someone getting too close: chase him away.

"Look, Robin," she purred, and coaxed a mocking smile onto her lips. "I don't know what you expected striking a deal with the Evil Queen. I did what I'd promised, you saved my life in return, and now we're even, so-"

But Robin had, apparently, had enough.

"Would you just stop with the Evil Queen nonsense!" he cried in a flurry as his temper flared. Oh yes, he had one, too, she'd known that already - so why did it move her so?

Perhaps it was because it showed he genuinely cared.

She needed to stop.

"Nonsense?" she scoffed. "I _am_ the Evil Queen. Believing otherwise is foolish, as I have told you before." Well, that was true, wasn't it? She _was_ the Evil Queen...

"Every time something scares you," Robin spat, and suddenly cooled down mid-sentence. His eyes acquired a tenderness that only freaked her out. "You use her for cover," he finished softly. That was a far cry, Robin was reaching, he'd seen too little to have noticed the pattern - but he'd hit the nail on the head, and her stunned silence only spurred him on. "Regina, don't hide behind the Queen."

This kindness would be her downfall; she would have preferred a heated argument. She tried to whip up her anger once more, but suddenly she felt limp and empty, and all she could manage was a stuttered response.

"I'm not- I have nothing to say to you."

"Fine," he nodded. "Then listen to me, because I have something to say to you."

"I don't want to hear it."

"Oh, but you will."

How could he be so damn cocksure? But in spite of herself, she was listening. Why didn't she just turn and leave? Did she actually want to know what he could possibly have in mind? Before she had time to confront the question, Robin ploughed on.

"I'm sick of you doing this to yourself." Perhaps his words would aggravate her more if he didn't look so damn careworn. "I'm sick of me-" he went on, and Regina's eyes widened - what could he have done to feel bad about? "I'm sick of me condoning it by just standing around while you brood in your shell just because I worry I might say the wrong thing."

Regina swallowed. She hadn't been expecting this. He'd been trying to help, and he didn't know how. She could relate to that - she'd felt that way with Henry for a while, it had been one of the reasons she'd had him seeing Archie after she'd admitted she had no idea how to make things right with him again.

But Robin wasn't done yet. "I'm sick of us," he said, and she had an urge to cover her ears to shut out the words to come, "running away from each other. As scary as that is, I have feelings for you, and I know you feel something, too."

There seemed to be a giant, gaping hole where her stomach had been just a moment ago. Robin had feelings for her. He'd just admitted to having feelings for her. And she'd worried she might be imagining things.

_The tattoo_.

No, this wasn't safe, this wasn't what she wanted right now.

"Someone sure is being overly presumptuous." Her voice, would-be-dismissive, sounded artificial to her, but maybe - just maybe - he wouldn't hear that.

"So it's not true?" he challenged with his eyes boring into her. Yet he hadn't taken a single step towards her the entire conversation.

"No," Regina shot back in defence, a sinking sensation in her stomach at the blatant lie. She had feelings for him, yes, and very intense ones at that. But she couldn't tell him that. Heavens, she couldn't even admit it to herself.

A shadow settled on his brow, and the effect of her words astounded her. Was he so serious about this? That crestfallen face wasn't making things any easier.

He turned to Roland and wrapped the fur tighter around him. The gesture was perfectly genuine, yet possibly Robin was using the time to collect himself. Indeed, when he looked up again, his face was straight and his look searching. Once again, she'd have loved to hide from it, but instead worked to arrange her features into a look of contempt her heart was protesting loudly - she'd already seemed to have caused him pain.

"I don't believe you," Robin said at long last, but he looked gloomy all the same. Did this mean he'd...? "But there's not much I can do if you're so intent on denying whatever this connection we have is."

She only knew one way to go about this.

"We don't...have a connection," she forced out, then added almost inaudibly: "We can't."

Robin nodded, and kept his eyes down for a good while. Was this it? Had she succeeded? Was he finally giving up?

"Then I guess that's it," he said simply.

This was her way out. She should be relieved. Why wasn't she relieved? Why did she feel like bursting into tears? Why did she want to forget about the world for just a moment while they embraced?

_I've done that already. I can't afford to do it again_. It was too much...getting too big, spiralling out of control.

* * *

"Why are you following me?" Regina finally turned with her fists clenched.

What was he thinking, walking uphill not far behind her as though he had every right to be there? She'd left the stream without much ado, leaving Robin and Roland behind, but not long afterwards they were at her heels once again. Robin never came too close, but she knew he was constantly behind her by the way the tiny hairs at the back of her neck would stand up, and the knowledge itself was enough to make her uncomfortable. What else did she have to do to finally be rid of his unsettling presence?

Robin didn't answer until he was just steps away from her, and even then he could have done better than: "We have a common way."

"Take another route," she commanded, although that tone had never worked on him before.

"This is the only reasonable one," he shrugged.

"I thought we agreed to split."

"We never agreed on any such thing."

"Fine. Then go ahead. I'll find a way." She'd double back if she had to, go back the way they'd come. It'd take longer, but she could live with that. Or maybe she could rest her magic for a few days and try to poof herself straight to Aurora's Palace, despite the warning Robin had given her at the beginning.

Robin's patience was on the run-out.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Regina's nails dug into her palms. How dare he call her ridiculous? And he went on unashamedly. "There's only woods and marshes and magical traps around here. We need to get to Aurora's Palace, and fast. All of us. What sense does it make to go separately when we know there are dangers on the way?"

"Do you require my protection?" she jeered. "Because I sure don't require yours."

"No, sure as hell not. The wraith could talk."

"You didn't have to save me. I didn't ask for your help."

"No, of course not," Robin threw his one free arm up in the air. "Thankfully, I'm nowhere near as mulish as you, otherwise you'd be dead."

Regina's common sense nodded agreement, but her frame of mind dictated a much meaner response.

"Well, maybe you should have let that happen, at least I wouldn't have to suffer you around now - or you me."

Robin gave her a look of utter disbelief.

"You know, you really are incredible! Do you ever even-"

"Papa?" Roland peeped from beneath the stirring fur.

Robin froze, and Regina's mouth closed again. They'd both forgotten about the little boy asleep in Robin's arms. Had he heard them arguing?

"Roland..." Robin stroked the child's hair now poking out of the fur, "it's alright, buddy, I'm here."

Roland rubbed his eyes with his little fists and looked around behind his father's shoulder. "Where are we? Are we going home?"

"We are," Robin smiled at him.

"Is Regina with us?" he asked, and Regina's breath hitched a little. "She saved me. In the palace."

"That she did." Robin looked at her, his eyes soft and full of gratitude, all irateness gone.

She swallowed and searched for an adequate response but was spared the trouble when Roland twisted in Robin's arms and followed his father's look.

"Regina...hi," he breathed happily.

"Hi, Roland." This little boy had the most amazing ability to make her smile, and he didn't even know how precious that was. "How are you feeling?"

He considered the question for a moment. "Hurts a little."

They exchanged a quick, concerned look.

"Where does it hurt?" Robin asked, forcing his voice into calmness he definitely didn't feel. Regina herself felt a dreadful cold gripping her heart. What if something was wrong with him after all, and she hadn't noticed? She should have - she was the magical one of the two, so if the Witch had done Roland harm, Regina should have seen.

"My tummy," Roland pointed.

Robin set him down on a moss-covered rock and unwrapped the fur. Roland looked on with curiosity, and Regina gave him and encouraging smile before she joined Robin. She squinted in concentration as Robin swiftly exposed Roland's belly, probing gently with his fingers. Roland didn't once flinch in pain. Everything seemed to be alright.

Robin glanced at her over his shoulder, and she shook her head desperately. Was she missing something?

Then a sign of recognition ignited in his eyes, and he turned back to the boy.

"Roland? Could it be that you're hungry?"

Roland considered that for a moment, then nodded. "Maybe."

Robin uttered a relieved chuckle, and Regina closed her eyes briefly, gratefulness washing over her.

"I'll get you something right now, alright?" Robin reached into his cloak and handed the familiar plushie to Roland. "Here's Mr Monkey."

"I want Regina," Roland demanded, but took the monkey just as well.

Regina stepped closer. "I'm here, Roland."

He pointed next to him, and when she sat, he climbed onto her lap immediately. She put her arms around him with the smallest grain of reluctance, the last of which was chased out of her the moment he attempted to link his arms around her, resting even closer to her.

Robin whipped up a bowl of porridge in next to no time, and fed the already drooping Roland, while she still held his limp little figure on her lap. When the last spoonful was cleared, Roland snuggled into Regina, rested his cheek against her, and fell asleep. Soon, she found herself stroking his thin little arms.

Robin stepped to them, and she froze for a second, but he merely leaned to pick up the monkey Roland had in the meantime dropped, and sat back down a little distance away. She let out a small breath.

"We can do this together, you know." Robin kept toying with the monkey in his hands. "We don't have to split."

"We've been through this," she said quietly, resolved to remain uncompromising.

"No. I'm talking about teamwork," he said in a rush. "Nothing else. No connection, no nothing. You've been clear enough about that."

Even if there was a gloomy note in his voice somewhere, clearly he'd tried his best to not make it show. Regina felt a chill all the same. This wasn't a good idea. Agreeing on not acting on these urges was all very well, but would they actually stick to it?

Roland sighed in his sleep and squirmed on her lap, but didn't wake.

If she wanted to be reasonable, she had to agree with Robin. They had a common way, and they were more effective against enemies together than separately. If not for their own protection, they owed that much to Roland.

"Alright. We stick together - as allies. Nothing more, nothing less." A special emphasis lingered on those words - he needed to understand that, or else she'd opt out. "Your word," she asked.

He only took the tiniest moment before complying.

"My word," he said, and added, with a grave face: "I won't mention it again."

* * *

Robin rubbed his hands together over the humble fire. The cold drizzle and the sleet had gotten into the very heart of the forest, and the firewood smoked abundantly. At least Roland was warm, with the fur and Robin's own blanket thrown over him. He still spent most of the day asleep - there couldn't have been much sleep happening for the children while they'd been held hostage.

Despite the cold, Regina was sitting further away from the fire, across from them. Robin glanced at her quickly, but the caution was unnecessary - she wasn't looking his way but stared into the flames instead, her face softer than he'd seen it in a while. She was warm enough when Roland happened to be awake, but rather cold and unpleasant when they were on their own.

"So, this Witch," Robin began. Surely that at least was a safe topic - she was the thing that had united them after all. "Did you get to learn something about her back in the palace?" There'd never been time for them to discuss what had gone on in Regina's chamber between the two of them, and frankly, he was curious.

Regina, however, wasn't impressed by his choice of conversational topic - or perhaps it was the idea of conversation in general.

"That's between the two of us," she said dryly, her face set once again. Then she looked up at him across the fire with a challenge in her eyes. Robin became wary - this wasn't going to go well.

"But strange that you should ask," she continued. "If I'm not mistaken, you had promised useful information on her back at Rumpelstiltskin's Castle in exchange for my assistance. Somehow, that part of the deal was never honoured."

The insinuation stung.

"I always honour my word," he retorted. Damn it, he had resolved not to be provoked or otherwise drawn into assuming the same tone with her that she'd been employing on him. But he was stingy about his honour, and the worst thing was she did have a point, although he had his reasons.

"Oh, but of course you do," she smirked. "You're a thief with honour, after all."

So they were back to "thief" again? Robin's stomach sank, and at the same time annoyance crept onto him.

"My word was good enough for you yesterday."

He regretted saying it the moment the words came out. He had no intention of reminding her of that conversation, or thinking about it himself.

Her face was drained of all colour for a moment, then the mask was back on.

"Good night," she said in no uncertain tones, and, turning her back on him, retired for the night.

Before turning in himself, Robin made sure to throw a bunch of firewood on the fire - albeit with completely unnecessary force.


	15. Frozen

_With so much about to go down on the show and my having a few days off, I'm now able to update earlier than usual, so here's a new chapter for all you lovely readers. Congratulate me: I managed to end this one on a cliffhanger! ;) Enjoy!_

* * *

Regina looked at him for answers as he emerged from a bush at the side of the path. Her curiosity was tepid at best, as there hadn't been much in the way of news anyway. It was necessary to keep a lookout, but Robin hardly ever found anything of interest in these abandoned parts.

"If we leave the path and go south, we'll come across a hut." Robin brushed a shower of dried needles off his shirt. "We can spend the night there."

"It's only midday. We can go a long way yet." Her patience was extraordinarily short now that their little group was together again. She needed to get away from this land as soon as possible - and from Robin's constant presence.

Robin shook his head and her temper flared. What was he thinking?

"If you feel you have time to waste, fine," she snapped, "but don't expect me to-"

Robin's eyes flashed with anger, but his voice stayed oddly calm as he interrupted her.

"There's a storm coming," he gestured at the horizon over the top of the trees. A heavy steely mass was gathering in the distance, painting the sky a cold dark hue. "We need to seek shelter, and fast."

Regina looked around in exasperation. Snowflakes were floating gently in the air, fat and fluffy. They showed no sign of thinning, quite the contrary: it was becoming increasingly hard to see through the thickening curtain of snow. A cold gust of wind blew a handful of icy shards in her face. Her eyes fell on Roland, who was already wading knee-deep in the squeaking snow. Robin was right, no matter how much she hated to admit it. What was the point of having rescued Roland just to let him come to harm from something as trivial as the weather?

"Alright," she said curtly. "He needs to stay warm. Roland," she called after the boy, who was breasting the snow and wind several steps ahead with her in tow so she could keep and eye out on him. "Roland!"

The snow already seemed to be muffling all sounds. It was only a matter of time before it swallowed up everything. But Robin was already at Roland's level, having caught up with the boy in just a few quick strides. He scooped Roland up in his arms and spoke a few words to him, then turned from the forest path in the direction of the trees. He waited for Regina to follow, and led the way into the thickset, shielding Roland's head from the overhanging branches with a careful hand. Regina's senses sharpened and she held her magic at the ready as the forest swallowed them.

* * *

"Is this it?" she shouted into the raging wind. Robin merely nodded, and beckoned her further out into the small clearing. Only now that they'd become fully exposed to the raging elements did they wholly appreciate its mightiness.

The abandoned hut was indeed just that: a weathered construction of logs and wood the size of a small room. It looked desperately shabby in the swirling gusts of snow. It was hard to believe it would offer much protection from the oncoming blizzard at all. She took a step forward, but the frown remained settled on her brow. Robin was waiting just a few steps from the entrance. Regina looked at him with annoyance as she caught up – what was he waiting for?

"A creek," he yelled, leaning slightly towards her. The word seemed to have carried for miles and barely reached her for the whooshing wind.

Indeed, there was a thin strip of frozen water surrounding the hut, making it stand isolated on a pathetic excuse of an island. It was too wide to overstep safely due to the treacherous frosty ground. At the same time, the ice could be too thin to hold them, and the water, albeit too shallow to threaten with drowning, would no doubt be ice-cold.

Regina flexed her gloved fingers. She could certainly make a way if need be. Robin, probably guessing her intention, placed a hand on her arm though. Regina's eyes flashed. He held her gaze for just a split second but did in no way react to her cold stare. He turned away instead and began walking around the perimeter of the hut, keeping at a constant distance from the creek. Roland gave her a small wave from the height of his father's embrace, and she started after them.

They reached the back of the house, and Robin began probing the ground with his boot at a certain spot. After a moment's toiling, he raised his head and nodded. Slowly, he inched across the creek, his footsteps uncovering a narrow footbridge hidden beneath the snow.

"It's not safe," she blurted out, realising only then that he probably couldn't hear her anyway. Roland merely waved to her again, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes had an adventurous glint that made her heart both melt and contract with anxiety. She glanced at Robin, who had just reached the other side and turned to call her onward.

Regina eyed the plank – or the little she could make out of it in the snow – with mistrust. She certainly had no desire to make an ass out of herself and tumble into the ice-covered water while Robin watched. She could use magic, but it did seem something of a waste, and he might just think she was a coward for it. Regina sighed and set out across. One slip on the ice made her curse internally and focus harder. It was only when she was safely on the other side that her fists unclenched and she breathed with more ease again. As soon as she got across, Robin had disappeared in the door.

The smell of wood and smoke hit her as she entered the cottage, a smell lingering in the walls and the sparse furniture: two beds, a rough-hewn table with two chairs, and a simple bench by the wall. She had to strain to pull the door shut behind her but once she did, it was a surprisingly tight fit – no draught was getting in.

Regina wrinkled her nose at the stink of decay. What a hole. Well, at least it looked dry.

"There's no firewood," Robin observed. "I'll venture out to get some in a moment, although it might be that we'll once again be getting more smoke than heat with the humidity."

Regina stomped her foot. He could be so damn impossible sometimes.

"I have magic, remember? I am perfectly capable of making us a fire without all the unnecessary trouble." And even as she spoke, a bright orange fireball unfurled in her palm, and she hurled it in one effortless motion into the full old ashes.

The fire crackled merrily, its tongues as lively as if it had been burning for hours. Regina could already feel pleasant warmth emanating from it in waves. She shot Robin a challenging look.

Like before, he said nothing, and looked away. Ever so gently, he unwrapped Roland's arms from around his neck and placed him in front of the fire.

"I'll get us water," he said without looking at her, and disappeared outside.

With a vague sense of irritation, she glanced at Roland warming his hands over the fire, and smiled at the sight. It didn't matter if Robin had not a word of thanks – the little boy was warm, and that was all of her concern. She crossed the small room in a few steps and leaned over Roland. Carefully, she removed the snow-soaked blanket from around him, undid the clasp of his wet cloak, and spread it out by the fire. He'd be dry now.

Roland murmured something incomprehensible and held up his arms to her. He felt feather-light as she obliged and picked him up, and his eyes fluttered closed with his head barely having rested on her shoulder. The long walk must have exhausted him. Those small feet were unfit to trod in that amount of snow or walk such distances, but when ever she'd suggested carrying him, the boy would shake his head and stumble on merrily, clearly enjoying the fun mess underfoot. Now he was falling into a heavy sleep.

Regina looked around the hut's insides instinctively for some bedding, only to feel utterly foolish a moment later. Of course there would be nothing. Even if there were, it would probably be unsuitable for use anymore. The blankets they had were sodden, since each of them had walked with one wrapped around themselves to keep out the cold. Never mind – she could handle this just as well of course. Regina flicked her wrist, and within a heartbeat Roland was resting amid a puffy pillow and a fluffy duvet. One or two careful, swift, experienced motions - this time no magic was needed - and he was all tucked in.

A gust of wind-and-snowflakes later, the door banged shut, and Regina winced involuntarily and wheeled around. Robin had returned with the water and a handful of walnuts. His eyes darted from her to Roland under the blanket and back to her again. For a moment she was certain he'd turn away without a word once more.

Then he nodded. "Thank you, Regina."

At least he still used her name – she'd been half-expecting him to have returned to "Your Majesty" or else "milady" by now. Despite the evident cooling of their behaviour, this small nicety still remained, and deep down she was grateful for that.

* * *

"You disapprove of magic," Regina cut through the heavy, lingering silence.

Roland was fast asleep and she and Robin were finishing a humble supper.

The thought had been present all day. Of course she'd known before, but today it unnerved her. The way he'd come to keep his distance unnerved her. But of course it wasn't his fault. It had been her decision in the first place. Robin was merely coming to accommodate the change in her behaviour. How could she blame him?

He eyed her for a short moment before he replied.

"I believe the price is hardly worth the gain."

So he was admitting to it. That should have come as no surprise - he had never tried to mollify her by commending what he didn't agree with, even in the face of her temper.

"Luckily, I am the one paying the price," she said.

Robin fixed her with a gaze.

"Then perhaps I'd rather you didn't have to pay it either."

"Why would you care?" she blurted before she could stop herself. As the words tumbled out, she attempted for them to sound mocking at best, yet she felt immediately that it had fallen short. It went too deep, too intimate – it erupted from the very core of her soul, possibly revealing far more than she had ever intended.

Robin watched her intently – so intently she felt as if he were attempting to reach right to her soul. Regina felt an uncomfortable prickling sensation down her spine but was loath to admit defeat by being the first to avert her eyes. Instead, she resorted to doing what she always did when she felt threatened: she attacked.

"I merely find the suggestion hypocritical after the hostile attitude we have engaged in in the past days."

Despite the unfairness of it, the implication obviously stung. His eyes softened somewhat.

"I had no intention of appearing hostile," he sighed. "I do believe I'd been rather forthcoming before. You've given every sign of it being a burden to you."

Regina's jaw clenched. His words were way too accurate – and there was no hint of an accusation there either, just a certain disappointment, a dejection she didn't fully comprehend. And he didn't stop there.

"Can you blame me if after a fortnight I run out of incentive to remain quite so obliging?"

In all fairness, she had no right to - but try as she might to be pleased about having achieved what she had set out to do, the change in their dynamics was only bringing pain and sadness on a scale she hadn't counted on, and none of the relief and safety from being hurt that she had expected it to bring.

"I may not be as amicable now," Robin admitted with a small frown, "but I still believe I maintain a decent attitude to make the rest of this journey tolerable."

Regina arched her eyebrow. "And I'm making it intolerable."

"Your incessant bickering is a hindrance," he blurted.

So that was how he felt. Until then he'd managed not to show any frustration her behaviour must have caused, which had annoyed her to no end. Robin ran a hand through his hair. He seemed to have lost his self-control for once, and as much as Regina wanted to, she just couldn't feel pleased.

Suddenly, she felt tired of everything.

"It wasn't my choice to do things this way, Robin."

He should have let her go when she'd left on her own. He didn't need her anymore anyway.

"Your son was held captive by a witch, so it made sense to team up then. I wanted to part ways afterwards, but you insisted on sticking together." The bitterness on her tongue made its way into her words as well, and Robin huffed.

"So I'm the one to blame for this."

"Why was it so important to you that we make our way back together?" She stirred the tea in her mug. It had gone cold and tasted foul this way. She grimaced. "As you've just said yourself, I'm no pleasant company."

Robin opened his mouth and closed it again - what could he possibly have wanted to say that he'd changed his mind?

"I had also said this land is full of dangers," he reminded her eventually, "many of which you don't even comprehend."

"I come from this land. As much as I dislike it, I do know a thing or two about it."

It wasn't as though she'd found herself in an all new world, as Storybrooke had been. Storybrooke. It felt more like a home to her than this place ever had. If only she could go back.

Robin's voice cut through her fruitless dreamery. "Not after the Curse."

"Which I cast."

The victorious note brought a frown on Robin's face.

Regina's short-lived safety bubble came to the brink of bursting. Was Robin right? Did she have a habit of holding up the Evil Queen as a shield when she felt threatened? She'd just done it - she'd felt sure it would end this conversation. And it had another benefit, too: if she kept reminding people of the fact, at least that allowed for less disappointment when they suddenly threw it in her face at a moment of hopeful oblivion on her part.

But Robin didn't reprimand her again for this little stunt she'd pulled, nor did he proceed to try and refute it. He merely gave her a sincerely interested look.

"And then there's this Witch who seems to hate you," he said as if she'd never interrupted him.

"A lot of people hate me." If one person were any reason to feel constantly threatened, the crowds of them would have driven her crazy a long time ago. "Believe me, this is no news to me."

Robin made a non-committal sound. "Not all of them have the means to set wraiths and monkeys and murderous Cyclopes on you."

Was he really suggesting he worried about her so much that he'd put up with all her nastiness not only for Roland's safety, but her own? No, that was impossible. She should be offended that he believed her so gullible. Yet there wasn't a single sign of him being anything other than sincere.

"Why do you care?" Regina heard herself ask again, with an insistence that was making her sound close to desperate. Ashamed, she turned to her mug again, but there was nothing left to sip on.

Robin rose and retrieved the improvised kettle from the fire. He refilled his cup and offered to refill hers. Regina held it out automatically. He set the kettle back down and returned to his seat. Only then did he answer.

"I simply do." His hand with the cup in it sank back down from his lips at the slight shake of her head. "Is being cared about such a terrible fate?"

_Was being happy such a terrible fate?_

Regina struggled to shake off the ghosts of the past. Damn his choice of words.

"I find people only show interest when they have something to gain. There is always a reason." She took a sip of the steaming liquid just to occupy herself and hide her face - the topic was sensitive, and she didn't see how he would refute her argument considering that they had teamed up in precisely that kind of situation. Her lips burned at the contact and she pushed back a hiss.

Robin's lips tightened for a moment, then his eyes bore into her, and she made it a point to stare into the depths of the mug, her ears pricked for his answer.

"Then you have clearly had the misfortune of meeting the wrong people."

"What a nice notion." The sarcasm helped keep her feelings at bay. It always did. "I doubt it."

It was Robin's turn to stare into his tea. Perhaps he'd run out of arguments now. Finally. She'd been stupid to secretly hope he'd have a good counter-argument she couldn't refute. Why on earth would she hope for that at all?

Robin looked up from his cup with a determined curve to his mouth, but his eyes were soft. "The night I found you outside the camp alone, crying, I certainly wasn't thinking of any kind of gain for myself."

Regina's hand shook, and brownish water spilled onto the floor.

"That never happened."

He'd never mentioned this before, not since that awkward night - why now? Why at all?

Robin nodded, as if he'd expected this reaction.

"We both know better. You held me at arm's length, and I withdrew, because even though I wanted to offer comfort, it just seemed to upset you even more."

The jumble of emotions of that night returned as alive as ever. She couldn't deal with this now. He should never have seen her like that. He was right, he couldn't help her - she didn't see how he could possibly make her feel anything but panicked and exposed.

"I don't have to discuss this with you," she glared at him pointedly.

Robin nodded again. "You don't have to discuss anything with me. But you _could_ - if you wanted to."

"Well, I don't. I want to do what needs to be done for us to go back home." For starters, she needed to get the hell out of here, away from this conversation. She set the mug down with a clang. "And I'm starting now."

The moment she said that, his obliging demeanour changed.

"Regina, there's a blizzard raging outside." He stood up, suddenly towering over her. "Even when it stops, there might be no leaving this place for a while."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"This place is known for dire weather calamities. We could be snowed in for days."

"No," she stated simply. "I'm not letting a little snow detain me longer than until morning, and certainly not for days. I can make a way even where there is none - remember?" She opened her palm to reveal a shining fireball licking at her fingers lazily.

"That's not a good idea." Robin said straightforwardly - what gave him the nerve? "You might end up doing more harm than good." The flames in her palm danced reflected in his eyes.

"You have your sentiments about magic, I have mine. Stay here with Roland." Regina glanced at the shock of hair prominent against the contrasting bedding, and suppressed a pang of guilt and tenderness. The Witch had told her she was no longer interested in children. Robin was perfectly capable of protecting his son from other dangers. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Regina, don't." She walked briskly to the door, but as she put her hand on it, his fingers curled around her forearm. "Do not go out there."

"Let go off me," she spat.

"Please," he added quietly. "There's a line between being determined and being foolish. Don't be the latter."

"Let go," she hissed.

To her slight surprise, he did exactly that.

"As you wish."

The spot on her arm he had been touching just a moment ago burned curiously. He hadn't been rough with her despite the urgency, therefore the sensation was quite peculiar.

So was the shadow of worry that accompanied the cross expression on his face.

* * *

Robin sank back into his seat in front of the fire.

Bold and audacious to a fault.

Well, she wouldn't be long. As deep as the snow had been when he was out there last, the narrow path to the edge of the forest he had dug to get to firewood would now be covered in snow and guarded by an even higher white wall on each side. Regina wouldn't get far.

Yet several minutes passed and she hadn't returned.

Robin's unrest only grew. He stood and went to check on Roland, who was sleeping peacefully, untroubled by worries of any kind. Thank goodness for that. He watched him a little longer, then adjusted the fur to make sure he stayed as warm as possible.

A mighty whumphing sound, not unlike a bag of potatoes being dropped into deep snow, shook the cottage's walls.

Robin's blood froze. He knew that sound: the sound of hurtling snow, plundering everything underway.


	16. Snowed In

_Since I've been on vacation this week, I've been able to write a bit more than usual, so here's another update. It get slightly angsty but I think the fluffy Regina & Roland parts make up for it. We can do with a little cuteness in anticipation of the next episode, right? Enjoy!_

* * *

The disturbing sound died out and quiet sat on the cottage, heavy and muffling. One glance at Roland told him the child's sleep was too deep to have been disturbed. The next second, Robin was in the door with a cape and a blanket in one hand and a sword in the other.

The door wouldn't yield to his touch. He leaned against it with a shoulder and pushed. It didn't budge. Damn it, he needed to get out there, and fast. Robin forced his sword between the door and the frame, sending splinters flying. He eased it a little, then gave the door a mighty push. It seemed to have moved an inch. Robin pushed again, but it was not enough, and it was way too slow. Regina was out there and clearly in trouble. This time, Robin took the door at a run. As his shoulder collided with the sturdy wood, a dull pain spread through it, and a moment later he tumbled headlong through the narrow opening.

Everything was dark. It had to be night still. That wasn't helping - what daylight could aid him in orientation would come too late. Robin dug into the solid, cold wall before him, throwing the snow aside, but there was more beyond. He toiled on feverishly. There wasn't much time in situations like this. She could be buried under, freezing just as he was making his way to her. He cursed and attacked the frosty wall with his shoulder. The icy sensation actually numbed the painful throbbing. He threw himself against the snow again, and found himself breathing fresh night air with eyes blinded by the shimmer of stars against snow.

"Regina!" he yelled as loud as he could. There was no answer, only walls of snow surrounding him - snow that could entomb him any moment, especially if he was foolish enough to continue shouting. Chances were she couldn't hear him anyway, or he wouldn't hear her answer.

A snowflake landed on his nose, and a bunch of others danced around him. It had begun to snow anew.

Where could she be? She'd have tried to make a path in the snow, towards the forest probably, like he had before, only for him there had been much less snow to plough through then. Snow drifts and iced slabs had probably foiled her attempts … and then an avalanche-like effect had occurred. Perhaps one of her fireballs had triggered it. Whatever it had been, it meant he needed to look for her at the far end of the path. He gazed up at the ghostly treetops and the pale stars for orientation, and ploughed on in the bitter cold. He blasted through barriers by force of momentum or aided by his sword, which he used as a shovel - though carefully, so as not to hurt her should he come across her in the snowy banks.

Something black and shiny lay against the snow in sharp contrast with its stunning brightness. Robin picked it up - it was Regina's gorget. He threw it aside and began to dig as quickly as possible. He exhaled sharply when he hit her boot, and forced his muscles to work even faster. Soon enough, the snow became wetter as opposed to iced, and a thawing slush took its place. Perhaps she was keeping herself warm by magic - hopefully that was what she was doing.

Regina's legs became uncovered, and a muffled groan issued from the snow as he tried to pull her out by them. By some miracle, he'd done it in a few more seconds' worth of digging and grabbing and pulling. He wrapped her in the readied blanket, but she continued shivering violently, so he tore the cloak from his shoulders and threw it over her. She was breathing and conscious, and he felt a warmth spread in his chest despite the biting cold. She groaned again as he gathered her in his arms, and stumbled with her back inside, closing the door on the calamity without.

* * *

Robin threw a bunch of logs in the fireplace. Flames roared and licked the grate hungrily. He hurried back to her, looking her over.

Regina lay still with her eyes closed and her teeth chattering. Clumps of snow were slowly melting in her hair, creating wet patches on the blanket. The pale bluish of her lips was prominent against her ashen face. Robin unclasped her cloak and removed her coat, and threw them aside. The skirt underneath was soaked through; it would have to go. He worked as fast as he could, only stopping now and then to check her pulse. It was all good: she was breathing and she was conscious, that was more than he'd dared hope for.

Robin undid her boots and pulled them carefully off her feet. She didn't flinch, and Robin froze for a moment, staying his hands with the boot halfway off. Frostbite was an option, of course - but he'd hoped, since she'd managed to keep herself fairly warm out there, that she'd have escaped it. Well, either way, there was no time to tarry. He removed the boot in one swift motion, and the other one, too. Regina's feet were cold to the touch but her toes had remained pink and untouched by frostnip. Robin exhaled - she must have known what she was doing keeping herself warm under the snow.

By the time he removed all wet clothing, she was left wearing only a fine black chemise. Her bare arms were covered in goosebumps, and Robin groaned in frustration - they had no more blankets, and only the one fur Roland was covered with. He glance over to his son, asleep with his arms, chest, and one leg sticking out. The blaring fire was keeping him warmer than he needed. Robin replaced the fur with a blanket, making sure Roland was properly covered. Then he rushed back to Regina and wrapped her in the fur with equal care.

Robin settled at the foot of the bed and began to gently rub Regina's still cold feet, coaxing warmth and feeling back into them. After a while, she moaned and attempted to pull her leg in, but Robin held on to it. It tingled and burned, yes, but as unpleasant as that undoubtedly was to her, it was necessary.

He'd never fully realised how petite she actually was. The Queen often seemed larger than life, impressive and truly majestic, and although that had a lot to do with her ostentatious wardrobe, it was as much, if not more, the effect of Regina's demeanour: the way she carried herself, how she was able to fill an entire room with her presence effortlessly. Now, resting beneath the large fur, she looked small and vulnerable, almost fragile.

She sighed and her eyelashes fluttered, but she didn't open her eyes.

"Regina," Robin leaned over her and brushed wet hair from her face and neck. "Stay with me, alright? You can go to sleep soon enough, when you're warm."

* * *

Her fingers and toes tingled pleasantly. It was nice and warm. Either death was far less grim than people made it out, or she was somehow safely back in the cottage. Regina tried to move her toes. It worked. She stretched her fingers. What a delight. Everything seemed to be working the way it was supposed to. Maybe the unfortunate mishap had left no lasting damage after all. But it could have.

Regina groaned. Robin would have a few words to say about it for sure. He'd been right after all: messing around with all that snow had been reckless. She was lucky to have gotten off so lightly. What with the nastiness she'd been heaping on Robin lately, there'd probably be no end to the lecture - and she couldn't even complain.

Well, if it had to be, it'd better happen straight away. Regina opened her eyes.

A pair of wide brown ones was staring back at her.

Roland smiled happily and stepped closer, stopping just beside her bed.

"Hi," she breathed.

"You're up," Roland beamed. "I knew it. It was Mr Monkey." He pointed with an earnest face.

Regina looked down the warm fur she was covered by, and, sure enough, there it sat, watching her just like Roland had been.

"I think it was both of you," she smiled at the boy, who kept rocking on the balls of his feet with gusto. Robin was nowhere in sight. "Where's your Papa?"

"Out for wood for fire. I'm watching you now." He stuck out his chest proudly, so much that the buttons on his green camisole strained.

Regina fought back a chuckle. He was so adorable, the way he took his task so seriously. He'd been keeping a really close watch over her, that much was certain. Before she knew it, she reached for his hand.

"Thank you," she winked at the child, and Roland tried to wink back, but ended up blinking every time. After several attempts, he gave up with a shrug and a giggle.

"So, you want anything, Regina?" Roland offered, making a solemn face again.

"I don't need anything, sweetheart." His face fell the tiniest bit, and although he still seemed cheery enough, Regina's eyes darted around the room. "Maybe a sip of water?" she added hastily.

Roland nodded keenly and ran to get her the wineskin. His feet tapped on the beaten earth floor as he hurried back. Regina drank up. It had actually been a good idea, some life seemed to be returning to her as she drank. Roland stood by her bed again, shuffling his feet. There was nothing else she could think of for him to do, and who knew how long he'd been standing guard there anyway.

"Regina?" he piped as soon she put the wineskin aside.

"Yes?"

"May I come climb in there?" He fixed her with those irresistible eyes of his and tugged at the fur.

"Oh...well-" She felt inexplicably self-conscious all of a sudden. Roland let go of the fur and just gazed at her expectantly. How could anyone say no to him? "Of course."

A wide grin appeared on his face as he set to climb up. Regina squirmed back towards the wall to make room, but just then Roland stopped with one leg flung over the bed and the other hanging in the air, and looked at her with a small frown.

"What is it?"

"I won't hurt you?" he asked, suddenly looking fearful.

Her heart melted.

"No, it's alright." She ran her fingers through his hair. "You won't hurt me."

Roland needed no more. He swiftly climbed under the fur and edged closer to her.

Regina let her arm rest around the little boy.

It'd been so long... And it hadn't been this boy, but another one, one she missed so much it hurt, and right now the pang of pain and the sting of guilt were worse than ever. _My little prince_. How she wished for him.

So what was she doing with this child right here? Well, what was she supposed to do? He was a little boy who seemed to have taken to her, he was absolutely endearing, and truth be told, having someone like her was still so new and astonishing to her that she couldn't help embracing it to some extent.

Roland tugged at her hand. "Don't be sad," he stroked her face clumsily - but the gesture itself was plenty to handle. So he'd noticed. Regina gave the boy a crooked smile.

"I'll tell you a story. Papa tells me stories when I'm sad or sick," he explained. "They help."

She smiled, and this time it was perfectly genuine. Yes, that sounded like something Robin might be good at.

"It's a story about a pig in a wig," Roland began gleefully. Regina chuckled. This was a promising start. "You know why this pig has a wig?"

Regina shook her head, the smile still glued to her face.

So Roland plunged into a tale of one ridiculous mishap after another: it involved a family of pigs going to the barber's, with one little piglet wreaking havoc and causing papa pig to end up with a horrible haircut, which he then tried to hide this under a wig, then eventually chose to go bald instead. "And so because he was the only pig with no hair, his family got no hair, too!" Roland laughed. "And now all pigs don't have no hair!"

The sound of his laughter and her own rang in her ears - when had she last laughed like that?

"Never fails to brighten the day," Robin snorted from the door. He must have come back just as Roland was finishing a story. He deposited an armful of firewood by the fireplace.

Regina released her hold on Roland, expecting him to jump straight out to join Robin, but the boy remained snuggled to her.

"How are you feeling?" Robin gave her a glance in between two logs thrown onto the fire.

"I'm quite well." The unease was returning along with Robin's presence. Regina was tired of it, now more than before. They were confined to spend a lot of time together, and every second of it had her nerves on edge. It was unbearable, and she wasn't sure how long she could last. And what exactly would happen then?

Roland twisted under the fur to face Robin. "Papa, I telled Regina a story and now she's not sad!"

Robin gave her another brief look, then smiled at Roland. "I can see that - a job well done. Breakfast," he announced, and Roland crawled out of bed and pitter-pattered to get his bowl. Regina's lips twitched - at this age, they were always hungry.

She pushed herself up on her elbows, hissing slightly at the sudden protest of her muscles. Robin handed her the porridge. There wasn't much variation to their diet anymore, especially now that there was nowhere to get fresh meat from. Not that she was complaining. Her stomach rumbled as the smell of the steaming food reached her nostrils. She stretched and leaned against the wall, screwing up her face at the stab of pain in her neck.

"Are you always so hot-headed?" Robin adjusted the fur, which had slipped off as she was sitting up. He grinned at the indignation written on her face. "Well, of course you are."

"Let's just say patience is hardly one of my virtues." Sometimes it worked out for the better, this flaring temper of hers, but it would just as often get her in trouble, too. As long as she was only putting herself at risk, it was fine, but... Her eyes rested on Roland, who was sitting by the fire licking even the smallest shred of porridge off the spoon. Then she glanced at Robin, just for a second. "I thought I could do this," she swallowed, "but I jeopardised your lives, too."

Robin was looking at her - she could tell even though she was refusing to look at him, keeping her eyes on Roland the whole time.

"Next time maybe you'll listen to reason," His tone wasn't too harsh - not as harsh as she deserved. Perhaps that was because her life had been in danger recently - but even that had been her own stupid fault. "Regina..." he began, and she waited.

But whatever he was going to say was being delayed, and unwilling though she was, she eventually gave in to the unspoken expectation and turned to him.

"Do you think maybe your magic sort of - runs away with you, sometimes?"

It was the most careful he was able to phrase the question, but the problem was that he was even mentioning it in the first place.

"You didn't mind my magic when it helped save your son." Oh, crap. She shouldn't have said that. Of course he hadn't minded then, what parent would? She'd sell her soul a thousand times over for Henry, it was only logical Robin would do the same for Roland. It must have been her injury speaking, and all her past experience of this.

People had often treated her magic, and her with it, exactly like this. She was perfectly welcome to use it in dire straits when it would help them, but anything beyond that was unacceptable. Regina had felt used before, even though she'd never spoken about it. Now poor Robin would carry all the weight of past injuries.

Indeed, he bowed his head. "I… You're right," he sighed. "I could think of no other means then. But now," Robin gestured to the fireplace, "we could have managed a fire without it. It's…I just think sometimes you'd be better off without it." All this concern was for her now? "But of course that's not my call," Robin finished.

"No," she said, "it's not."

He had no idea what magic had come to represent in her life. It had made her feel empowered back when she'd first started learning to use it. She would no longer be helpless in its face. Of course she'd come to rely on it increasingly through the years, but that was only logical.

In Storybrooke, she'd lived twenty-eight years without magic, and had done just fine without it, too. At first it had been strange, but in the end it had been some kind of relief - until it returned and she had magical enemies again. Then she'd come to rely on magic too heavily once more, so much so that she'd ended up seeking out Dr Hopper's help. Could the same thing be happening again? Perhaps Robin had too good an idea after all.

Regina squinted up at him. "You'd better be ready to get some more firewood then if you want to keep that fire going."

Robin smiled and nodded.

He crossed to the fire and reached to take Roland's bowl, but the boy held on to it and began to lick it clean, getting bits of porridge right up to his ears. Regina chuckled as Robin ruffled Roland's hair.

"Would you care for some tea?" he turned to her from the fireplace.

"The bitter mess?" The tea he'd brewed her back when she had gotten herself a cold had been one of the most atrocious things she had ever tasted.

Robin smirked and put on water to boil. "You have to admit you deserved it back then - and it's an effective infusion despite the foul taste." He retrieved his bag and began to rummage about. "Not this time, though. I'll make you a treat."

"You certainly seems to have a plethora of herbs," she noted. Clearly he was a fan of tea. Regina grinned. In folklore, Robin Hood was an Englishman. The stereotype seemed to fit.

Robin glanced up from the contents of the bag with a grin. "You have your potion kit, I have mine."

"I do not have a potion kit." Well, to be fair, she used to have one. What had remained of it, however, had been stolen by some anonymous thief - even though there was an obvious suspect, of course. Either way, her ingredients were gone. "At least not anymore."

Once the tea was ready, Regina accepted the mug with reservations. The aromatic scent filled her nostrils. It was definitely not unpleasant. It seemed Robin hadn't been pulling her leg with the promise of a treat. She took a small sip and raised an eyebrow. The tea was hot and tasty, and rather refreshing.

Roland was asleep in front of the fireplace, an empty cup hanging from his hand. Regina smiled at the sight of the little storyteller exhausted by eating and drinking.

"You know, your take on pigs being hairless is quite unique."

Robin chuckled with her back to her, adding some herb or another to his cup.

"You weren't aiming to kill me," she said after a while of silence.

Robin turned to her in surprise, then his eyes slid to the mug in her hands. His eyes twinkled. "Of course not, I'm trying to cure you. It's tea, not poison."

Regina rolled her eyes. "I meant at Rumple's library." The thought had occurred to her a while ago, after she'd had several opportunities to witness Robin's prowess at archery. There was no way he'd missed back at the Castle.

"Indeed I wasn't." He sat down at the foot of her bed, nursing a cup of his own. "How about your little piece of magic?"

She pulled her legs in on impulse, so she and Robin weren't touching. "It would have immobilised you." It would have done no harm to keep those legs where they'd been. Now it didn't matter anymore. "But you had to duck, didn't you?" she taunted. "That almost cost you your life."

He played along, taking a sip of tea. "Thankfully, it only cost a couple of books and a shelf."

"None of them yours," she continued to nag at him playfully.

"A shame all the same," Robin shrugged, "but better them than me."

She silently agreed.

* * *

Robin was sitting up at night to maintain the fire, passing the time by carving a piece of wood into a horse. He gave Roland a long look. Even the idea of his joy at the new toy was enough to make Robin smile. His eyes travelled to Regina next. Wrapped in the heavy fur, not an inch of her showing but her forehead and the long hair spread across the sheet, she had to still feel some remnant of the cold in her bones. Robin threw another log on the already blazing fire.

That damn obstinacy of hers. Yet his anger and annoyance, so useful for fighting the icy element, had evaporated as soon as he'd retrieved her from beneath the snow, and had been replaced by gentleness instead once it was time to nurse her back to health. He crossed to her and just stood over the bed, watching her brow - that was as much as he could make out above the rim of the fur. Well, he was certainly spending a lot of time doing this, considering. What would she think if she found him gaping at her like that?

Robin turned away. What a fool he was, acting like a common creep. Yet there had been nothing creepy about his intentions. He'd simply watched her as he'd watch Roland sleeping - with affection and a protectiveness that made his heart swell. Robin ran a hand through his hair. Roland was one thing, he was his son, and it made perfect sense for him to feel that way. Regina, on the other hand... When had this gotten so...so intense?

Shaking his head, he was on his way back to the fireplace when Regina emitted a small groan. The fur rustled as she shifted in her sleep. Robin was by her side in a moment. Her brow was furrowed, her face scrunched up. Her breathing became heavy and laboured, as if she had been running, or was in some great distress. Was she in pain? Was this some awful kind of relapse?

Robin reached to pull the fur back over her. His hand brushed against her arm in the process, and she jerked violently, recoiling from his touch. He pulled back immediately, but she kept thrashing around, moaning quietly, her every breath quick and shallow.

"Regina."

"No..." she pleaded. Still her eyes remained closed. It was almost as if she were keeping them shut knowingly, refusing to see some awful reality. "I don't want to..."

"Regina. You don't have to," Robin soothed. He needed to get through to her and make an end to this, whatever it was. Pain was so clearly etched on her face that it couldn't be any clearer if she were screaming in agony. His hand went up to touch her face, but either she sensed it or there was some imaginary demon trying to do the same - her arms went up in a wild attempt to push some invisible intruder away.

"Stop it," she sobbed. "Please." Her voice broke, and she began to silently cry.

"Regina, it's alright," he began. His throat constricted at the sight of her, squirming away from him, squirming away from someone or something only she knew was there, her tears soaking her face, her hair, the sheets. In a frantic attempt to get away, her head came dangerously close to the rough bedpost in the corner. She trembled and threw herself further aside, and Robin acted on instinct, his hand shooting forward and covering the sharp edges of the pole. As she smashed her head against it, splinters of wood punctured his skin, and a sharp pain shot through his palm. Regina jerked away at the contact with his arm, uttering a sharp scream.

"Don't touch me!" she cried out.

Perhaps it was her own voice to finally shake her awake. Her eyes flew open, terror staring out of them. She pulled the fur to her, her fingers digging into it so hard her knuckles turned white, and she scrambled up all the way to the wall, pressing her back against it.

Robin withdrew his hand in a flash. The angry red gash across his palm barely registered as he tried to master his shock and mould his face into an expression of calmness and security.

"It's alright, you're alright. It was just a dream. You're safe."

Her eyes held the look of a hunted animal as she hugged the fur to her, looking around wildly.

"Papa!"

Robin turned just in time to catch the stumbling Roland and pick him up. Roland's arms snaked around Robin's neck as he stared at Regina, wide-eyed.

"Papa, what's wrong with Regina?" he whispered in a thin, fearful voice.

Robin glanced at her huddled in the corner. She trembled at Roland's words and some trace of recognition flashed through her eyes. Still clutching the fur, she looked at Roland, and her eyes finally regained some focus.

"Roland," she whispered.

The child squirmed in his arms, letting go of his neck with one hand, and reaching out to Regina hesitantly.

"It's alright, I'm alright," she swallowed.

Robin watched, astonished, as she slowly started regaining self-control. She forced her breathing back to normal and held Roland's gaze, chasing the shadows away from those brown eyes. Her fingers digging into the fur remained the only lingering sign of her distress.

"Everything is fine, Roland, I only had a nightmare, that's all." Her voice still shook a little, but she managed to brave a small smile.

Roland relaxed, and reached for Regina with both arms.

"Are you sure this is alright?" It was an incredible change she'd gone through under Roland's frightened look. The way the child's terror had taken precedence over her own made him wonder that maybe she wasn't doing this for the first time.

Regina nodded and let Roland climb beneath the fur to her. He put his arms around her and closed his eyes as she began to stroke his hair. Her hands trembled as she ran them through the child's hair, but with each stroke, the trembling grew less and less. Robin watched Roland resting peacefully on Regina's lap, glancing at her in turn every once in a while. They were soothing each other. This had to be one of the most amazing sights he'd ever set eyes on. Roland went back to sleep within minutes. Regina's hand lay on the fur just beside his head, without a tremble, free of tension, while the other still caressed the sleeping child.

Robin just stood there in silence. Maybe he should say something - there were dozens of questions and at least that many words of comfort and admiration on his tongue. Then again, words seemed redundant now - Regina, might be a little shaken still, looked almost at peace. Anything he could say might only upset her again.

Indeed, she seemed intent on avoiding Robin's eyes.

He cleared his throat. "I'll- I'll leave Roland with you, if that's-"

"Yes," she said simply, but still didn't look at him.

"Alright. If you need anything, I'll be over there."

One look - just one look to see how she was really holding up, to make sure she was going to be fine, and not just for the sake of Roland, but for herself this time. But it clearly wasn't meant to be. With a small sigh, he was about to turn away, when she raised her eyes to meet his.

In that brief moment, he rushed to read all he could in those wonderfully eloquent eyes of hers: remnants of anguish, but also tenderness; some ghastly shadow from the past, but also the recognition of a friendlier present; a briefly unveiled vulnerability, but also the spirit of inner strength. She didn't say anything, but the way her eyes shifted from his face to his scraped hand to Roland to his face again, and the little nod she gave him before averting her eyes again - all of this was more than enough.


	17. Stalemate

_The time has come for a time jump, so now we have Regina, Robin and Roland back with the others, and things are set in motion, approaching the casting of the Dark Curse. Hope you enjoy the build-up! I'm glad to get to write a little Tinkerbell at last, and Roland makes an appearance, too - he's just a joy to write.  
_

* * *

The train of her robe trailed after her as she walked, rustling on the marble floor. As she passed the door and turned a corner, Regina slowed her pace, listening. Sure enough, the pitter-patter of steps, muffled slightly with great effort, followed her on. Like every morning for months now, it brought a smile on her face.

The first time he'd done it, she'd freaked out at being followed like that - until she turned and found the spy was none other than the littlest Hood. He'd clung to her for the rest of the day, despite her brooding mood. Even when she settled down in the library to seek solitude and rest from the bustling life of the palace, Roland had slipped through the huge door after her. He climbed into the armchair next to hers and pulled a large tome from the discarded pile on the table between them, opened it on his lap, and gazed onto the pages with earnest interest. As Regina watched him, sitting with his legs sticking out in the air in a chair much too large for him, holding a book also too large for him, all her broodiness dissipated.

From that day on, Roland had taken to following her around the palace, his little feet trying to keep up with her. At some point, it had become a game they played. She'd pretend she didn't hear him at first. Then she'd occasionally wheel around with a great flourish of her gown to give him time to hide behind a corner, a door, or a suit of armour, only to stare foolishly into an empty corridor. Sometimes she'd hear him giggle at her supposedly futile attempts, and she'd snatch him from behind a statue and tickle him to fits of laughter. At other times, she'd wait for him to reveal himself, pretending to be scared out of her wits until he climbed into her arms and placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

So he was right behind her today as well. Except her impish side seemed to be awake this morning. It was time to change it up on him a little. With a grin, Regina turned a corner and pressed herself against the wall. Roland soon emerged and walked on a few steps before he noticed his target had somehow disappeared. He looked around, tugging at his green camisole thoughtfully. Just when he was about to spot her, Regina rushed to him from behind, scooped him up in her arms and turned around a few times. Roland whooped and cheered her on, his laughter - and her own - setting the corridor a-ringing.

"G'morning, Regina," he called breathlessly as she set him down, and craned his neck for a kiss, which she willingly gave.

"Morning, sweetheart." Regina adjusted his clothes while he fidgeted impatiently.

"Will you come riding with me today?"

He'd ask her the same question every day. Robin had started giving him lessons, since Aurora and Philip happened to have a pony in their stables, and Regina had once mentioned to Roland she'd had her first when she was just about his age. Regina had never before given in to Roland's pleading, though, never once joined them on the practice field. She was spending plenty of time with Roland, but very little with Robin - and that suited her. At least that was what she kept telling herself.

"Let's have breakfast now, alright?"

The hall was empty when they entered. Regina liked it that way, and anyway it'd fill soon enough. The table was already set, and Regina got some porridge and fruits for Roland before she helped herself.

The door opened and Robin walked in. Regina tensed immediately, yet at the same time her eyes refused to leave him as he made his way to Roland sitting next to her.

"Papa!" the boy called gleefully as Robin picked him up and tossed him in the air.

"Almost ready for riding practice, eh?" Robin ruffled Roland's hair once he'd deposited him back on the bench and glanced at his plate.

"Regina's coming with us today," Roland announced innocently.

When had she said such a thing? She was always careful not to make the promise to him, since she'd never intended to keep it in the first place. No, she§d most certainly said no such thing.

Her stomach gave a jolt when Robin's eyes rested on her. These chance meetings still unnerved her, even though they only happened rarely - or was it because they were so rare that they unnerved her all the more? Once Robin had caught up on her blatant mission of avoiding him a few months ago, he'd stopped seeking her out. It had taken a change in strategy she didn't really understand - she was no longer cold and unpleasant, but simply uncompromisingly evasive. For some reason, it worked. Not once had they been alone since they arrived to the palace and joined the others.

Now their eyes were locked for a longer while than they had been in ages, and Robin's searching look roused a tremour she'd almost forgotten but now felt come alive again with renewed force. This was all wrong, this wasn't supposed to be happening. After so long, she'd come to convince herself that whatever she'd felt for Robin before was surely gone by now. Until now - until this intense look of his rekindled a spark of...of something she'd worked so hard to put out. Was that a hopeful look he was giving her?

"I never- I didn't-" she stuttered, looking from Robin to Roland. How did she make it clear to one that she wasn't changing her mind about their current non-relationship, without hurting the other with her repeated dismissal?

A shadow crossed Robin's face at her words, but he just nodded and didn't comment. He gave his son a smile and sat down to eat.

Roland began chattering away to the both of them, but Regina's mind was someplace else. Clearly Robin was no longer looking her way - so why did she still feel those blue eyes on her? Was he judging her?

Or was she in fact second-guessing the cowardly way out she'd chosen - again?

The creak of the door salvaged her from further thought. Snow White made her way through with Aurora in tow, the two of them chatting animatedly, each with a hand resting on her very pregnant stomach. Were they aware of it at all? The gesture seemed to come naturally, instinctively, unconsciously. Regina wouldn't know, of course, she'd never been pregnant herself.

But she had a baby out there nonetheless... Her little prince, a son who didn't remember her, who lived his life somewhere unaware of the chunk of heart he was carrying around wherever he went - the heart Regina had given up to him so willingly twelve years ago.

Regina fought to push the tears back, to get the room back in focus.

Charming and Phillip followed their wives in, and moments later, the hall was full of Merry Men as well. Little John and Mulan were missing - it must have been their turn to patrol the forest. They still kept doing that, even though it had been weeks since the last suspicious activity.

Regina's fingers began hitting the wood of the table in a distraught, agitated manner.

The last few months had been wasted in fruitless attempts to locate the Witch or her army, or gather evidence of her plans. There'd been a few successes along the way, but nothing Regina found even remotely satisfactory. The Charmings had managed to raise a humble army while she and Robin were away, but by the time they had, suddenly there was not a single Cyclops to fight. Belle and Neal had gone off on their own, intent to find out more about Rumpelstiltskin's demise - or lack thereof, as they apparently still preferred to believe. They hadn't heard from them ever since.

Regina had spent some time perusing the palace's library, even though it was by no means a magical one in the way Rumple's was. She'd come across a few books that held interesting information on mythical monsters and even a few that included traces of magic a non-magical person would never uncover. Still, it was nothing of importance to their present situation.

Meanwhile, an abandoned village was set on fire once in a while, but even this was happening with much less gusto, apparently. No one had, to their knowledge, fallen victim to the stolen sleeping curse. Whatever plan the Witch was brewing, the quieter she was the more Regina believed they had cause to worry.

"Regina," a small hand tugged at her sleeve. "Regina, come on, it's time to go."

A pair of brown eyes stared up at her with a plea issuing from them. Normally she managed to juggle this fairly well, but today it seemed it wasn't meant to be. Today, he'd probably be crushed. Wouldn't it be better if she joined them after all? For Roland's sake, of course. She glanced at Robin only to catch him looking at her with unguarded anticipation. That changed everything. Perhaps if he hadn't looked, she would have give in to this urge, but now she couldn't lie to herself. The idea was dangerous, and she had no choice but to remain reasonable, stick to what she'd resolved herself to a while ago.

"Roland," she sighed, "I don't really-" Roland's face began to fall, and Regina cursed fate for having put her in this situation. She fought the urge to check the effect of her words on Robin, and stroked the boy's cheek instead. "Roland, sweetheart, I-"

Miraculously, Regina was spared the rest: the door swung open once again, and this time all heads turned - they were all gathered in the room with no one missing. Whoever the newcomer was, their arrival could mean some breaking news at last.

There was a collective gasp when Belle stumbled into the hall, dishevelled and exhausted. She was alone, and she looked ghastly. Her face must have gone unwashed for days, and tracks of tears had drawn clearer paths in the dirt on her cheeks. They were getting news after all - but none of it good.

After the initial shock, chairs scraped as multiple people jumped out of their seats, rushing to Belle. In moments, she was seated at the head of the table with bowls of food set before her, but she touched none of it. She only reached for a cup of wine and drained it in a heartbeat. She poured herself another, and it disappeared like the first. Her thirst seemed unquenchable. No, not her thirst - her misery.

Regina shuffled in her seat. Rumple had been dead for a while, and no one except Belle and Neal, who had of course been closest to him, had seemed to believe otherwise. Yet Regina felt an unpleasant stab now. The thought of the Dark One gone had felt odd then, and it felt odd now. She couldn't have said how it made her feel, but it definitely wasn't happy. They'd had so much history, and twisted though their relationship had always been, it had been too often that she'd only had Rumple to turn to.

Belle reached to refill her cup a fourth time, but this time the jug was pried away from her. Regina's chest burned at the sight of Robin setting the jug aside and patting Belle on the shoulder. They'd known each other from before, Robin had told her that, of course - apparently Belle had helped him once to escape Rumple's prison. Belle put the the cup down, and Robin gave her hand a squeeze before he went to sit at the nearest vacant spot a few places down the table.

A sting of pain in her finger made Regina look down. She'd never known when she started scratching the table with her nails digging into the board, and now there was a splinter lodged right under one of her fingernails. She threw Belle a dirty look, then gave herself a mental shake. What the hell was she doing? One glance at Robin, and she closed her eyes briefly. _Pull yourself together_. Robin wasn't in any way hers, so even if the gesture towards Belle had meant something, which it hadn't, Regina would have no reason to be jealous ... which she most certainly wasn't.

Still she felt a chill down her spine when Robin looked her way, until in fact she understood the look was meant for Roland. Once Belle started her recounting of her journey, Roland had better not be there to hear it. Regina looked around - would Robin take him or would it be someone else? As if in answer, Alan-a-Dale approached them and lifted Roland from the bench. So Robin didn't want to miss this either. Not that Alan was any happier to - he looked positively frustrated, even though Roland tugging at his lute did charm a smile onto his frowning face. Regina grinned inwardly - Alan would be deprived of a first-hand report of what could be a heroic song in the future.

As Alan left with Roland, though, Belle was still sitting with her face in her hands. This didn't bode well.

"Rumple's back," Belle muttered at long last.

Despite the relative distance and her muffled voice, the words came across clear in the perfect silence - everyone seemed to sit with bated breath. Something heavy seemed to have fallen off Regina's chest, but not for long. This should be good news - yet for some reason it wasn't.

"The Witch has his dagger."

Regina groaned. A collective murmur rose around Belle. Everyone seemed to want to say something or spill questions at her. Regina knew perfectly well what this meant, though. The Witch was one thing, but now they had the Dark One against them, too, and that was a much bigger problem.

"Everybody calm down," Charming's voice boomed across the room. "Belle, where's Neal?"

Belle stared ahead for a while, raised the empty glass to her lips, then set it down again. Ruby, who'd been sitting next to Belle all the while with an arm over her, poured her a glass of water, which Belle eyed with disinterest.

"Dead." Her voice sounded much the same.

It all went downhill from there.

* * *

Before being escorted to a chamber to wash up and get some sleep, Belle managed to tell them briefly about their journey to Rumple's castle, their discovery of an enchanted candelabra, how it had led them to the Dark One's vault, how Neal refused to listen to Belle when she discovered the candelabra's lie, and how he had paid with his life for bringing Rumpelstiltskin back. Technically, of course, he was still around, sharing a body with his father, but he was as good as dead.

And the Wicked Witch controlled the Dark One, and they still had no clue what her ultimate endgame was or how to stop her.

Regina's fingers twitched. Another council was about to commence - another hour, or more, spent playing the guessing game. The same ideas would be brought up over and over again with the same amount of supporting evidence - none. On a good day, someone would chip in with a new theory, usually involving a ridiculous notion of the workings of magic, which Regina would refute: with annoyance in the past, nowadays merely with a touch of apathy.

After an opening pep talk from Charming - a very unsatisfactory one, so apparently the Charmings, too, were running out of incentive - a dispirited discussion started. It involved increased patrols around the castle and in the wider forest area in hopes of collecting more information now that the Witch had clearly gotten closer to attaining whatever she was after. It was agreed that Ruby and Granny Lucas, utilising their superior wolf senses, would each lead a small group of scouts.

Then, to everyone's surprise, Robin stood up to speak.

It wasn't so much the fact that he wanted to speak that was so unusual; it was his demeanour about it. He swallowed several times, his eyes darting from person to person in turn but never meeting hers. Regina leaned forward in her chair involuntarily - Robin actually looked nervous. He'd never had trouble speaking in public before, so it had to be something else, but he couldn't possibly have new information - where would he have obtained it? Then his eyes lingered on her, and Regina's stomach dropped. He seemed positively repentant, apologetic, even. A foolish fright overcame her for a moment. What on earth was he going to say?

Robin's eyes wandered to the window.

Heads turned just as a bright blue light materialised from thin air and morphed into the Blue Fairy. Regina suppressed a groan - this meant more bad news. The fairies hadn't shown up in months now, not since they'd set to the task of stacking up as much fairy dust as possible to use against the Witch when the time came. If the Witch had learnt about this, she'd definitely have made sure to try and foil their attempts.

"Blue," Snow breathed. "What happened?"

"The fairy dust is gone."

As unsurprised as Regina was, it was still a slap in the face. This Witch always seemed to be ahead of them, no matter what they did.

"We thought maybe," she floated above the table and turned to Regina, "the Queen would know something about this."

Regina's jaw dropped, and it was a moment before she remembered to close her mouth. Indignation bubbled up in her and disappeared, replaced by something worse, a sinking sensation she'd felt before but not in a while - the horrible feeling of being misjudged and outcast. It was all the worse now because she'd come to not expect it anymore, after all these months of being treated - well, like part of a...a team.

"No one's accusing you of anything, Regina." A hand rested on her shoulder. Regina winced and turned around, utterly vexed, but Tinkerbell's sympathetic expression gave her pause. "Blue just meant, maybe you can think of some reason the Witch might want it."

"_A_ reason?" Regina said sarcastically, her umbrage leaving its mark on the tone. "There are countless possibilities with all the ways fairy dust can be utilised," she looked the Blue Fairy in the face, "as you very well know."

"Of course I know," the fairy nodded with dismay, "but as to other fields of magic, you're the only asset we have. With the Dark One on her side..."

Had she just been called an asset? An asset. It could be a compliment if it hadn't struck a different note - an asset was an object, a tool you used when appropriate, then disposed of it when no longer needed. The wretched fairy didn't even bother with her choice of words: she didn't say Regina was their _best_ asset - no, she was their _only_ one, suggesting that if there were other options, Regina wouldn't even have been considered. No matter how hard she tried to distance herself, to keep a straight face, this still felt like a punch in the stomach.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you." She rose from the table. "I have nothing to offer. I hear the Dark One's library is free for usage these days if you're looking for a reference book on magic."

Tinkerbell made a feeble attempt to hold her back but Regina twisted her arm out of her reach and marched out of the room, slamming the door shut.

* * *

Regina stormed through the palace, whipping up a rage she could blame the burn in her eyes on. The door of the hall banged shut in the distance, and she quickened her pace.

"Regina!"

She gritted her teeth - Robin was the last person she wished to talk to right now.

"Regina, wait," he called just steps behind her.

How in the hell had he caught up so fast? She should have just poofed herself to her chamber.

She turned to him abruptly. "I don't wish to ta-" she spat but stopped mid-sentence, thrown by how close they were. Robin's breath practically mingled with hers. Their eyes locked for a moment, he drank in her face, but before she had time to collect herself and react, Robin took a step back.

"Look," he said insistently, his hand flying up to the back of his neck, "the Blue Fairy made a mistake. I-"

"I don't care, alright?" It was almost true - a part of her stirred at his words. So someone had noticed. Someone actually wasn't blaming her for once. But in the end, it did nothing to change her mind. "I'm not going back."

Robin shook his head. "I'm not asking you to."

Regina couldn't help her attention being sparked a notch. What had he come running after her for then? Her stomach flipped. She'd been avoiding him and, though unwillingly at first, he respected that. Was he going to reopen the door she had so hastily closed after making barely a step towards the promise it held?

He took a deep breath before he continued. "But I need to talk to you."

Regina's alarm went off, and a pinch of annoyance crept in, too. "I don't want to talk, Robin, all this fruitless talk drives me crazy. I want to be alone."

He looked at her closely, and she rearranged her features into a neutral but unrelenting expression. Robin's fingers twitched briefly, as if he wanted to reach out to her, and he fiddled with a pouch on his belt instead. "This...might be important."

"Might be?" Surely if it were truly important, he'd know. This sounded like another piece of crazy guesswork at best. "That's not good enough for me right now."

For a moment, his shoulders relaxed and he almost looked relieved, then he tensed again. "Maybe later, then."

"Don't count on it."

* * *

As soon as the door closed on her chamber, Regina lost the heavily guarded mask and let her frustration out on the stone wall, slamming her fist on the cold surface. The accursed Witch had more leeway over them than ever before, they were losing on every front, and now the preposterous Blue Fairy had decided to lose all the fairy dust and blame it on Regina? After just one punch, though, exhaustion overcame her, and she dragged herself to the bed, only to find someone already sitting there.

"What- How did you-?" Regina frowned in frustration. The fairy had magicked herself in, of course. Would Regina never have a moment of peace and quiet around these people?

"Regina, you really shouldn't storm out on people like that. We-"

"You came all the way here to lecture me?"

"No. If you'd given us a chance you'd have seen that." Tinkerbell shifted on the bedside. Regina sat down with a sigh. Heavens, was she tired of the whole wretched situation. Tink laid a hand on her shoulder. "Blue wasn't very tactful."

"Well, the wording was quite unfortunate, but I assume that's exactly what she meant anyway."

"Not everyone agreed."

"No one objected."

"After you left, Snow confronted Blue. She said-"

"It doesn't matter." But that was a lie - it did matter. At least someone had bothered to stand up for her, even if it had been too late, and it was Snow White of all people.

"And Robin Hood?" Regina's breath hitched at the name. If Tinkerbell was to start with this now, she might just have to storm out of her own chamber for a change. Tinkerbell was either oblivious to her tension or it was precisely that which prompted her on. "He doesn't matter, either? He dashed off after you the moment you were gone. What did he say?"

"It doesn't matter." This wasn't about Robin. There was something else, something that'd been nagging at her for montjs with more and more ferocity, something she hadn't voiced once, not even to herself - and the pent up frustration spilled over. "Don't you understand? I have nothing!" The startled look on Tinkerbell's face at the sudden outburst made her take a deep breath befofre she continued, a little calmer but still upset. "This isn't about me simply being offended. The threat is real, I'm well aware of that, and the priority remains to end this Witch. The trouble is," she hesitated, looking Tinkerbell in the eyes. She saw nothing but sincere interest there, maybe a notch of sympathy that left her uncertain whether to appreciate it or be annoyed by it. "I have no idea what the Witch wants. I have no more idea than any of you. And Blue's right about one thing - if anyone should know, it's me. But I don't."

Regina's frustration came from a vulnerable place - it wasn't all injured pride or sensibilities. It was worse than that - she felt like a failure. Everyone was chipping in in their own ways in the search after the foe, and they were all coming up empty-handed, just like her. But Regina was different - magic was her field of expertise. It was her responsibility to defend them, to figure out the uses to which the Witch was putting magic, and she was certain it would be her to overcome it with magic of her own eventually. She was the logical candidate to do all these things. She wasn't an eternal optimist like Snow White, or a leader of people like Charming, she lacked Robin's self-possession or Granny Lucas' sharpened senses. The only way she was useful to anyone was her magic. And now it was failing - she was failing.

"Well, it's not like we have many clues, is it?" Tinkerbell shrugged, smiling wanly.

Regina breathing a little more easily. She had it off her chest now, and Tinkerbell made for quite a nice listener. Even years ago they'd stricken up quite a nice and pleasant rapport. Perhaps that was something to build upon, though how exactly that was done Regina had yet to learn.

"Maybe I should have returned to the Dark Castle weeks ago," Regina voiced a long debated thought. "But books won't help me find motive, and motive is everything. It tells you how determined the foe is, or how desperate, and to what lengths you can expect them to go."

"The Witch seems pretty determined to me. So do you, by the way."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"I saw the tattoo."

Regina groaned. She couldn't deal with this right now.

"So you did know about it." Tinkerbell shook her head in incredulity and gave her a hard look. "Regina, are you running away again?"

As a matter of fact, she was. There was no point glossing things over for either the fairy's or her own sake - she'd practically been on the run from Robin for months. The admission tasted bitter on her tongue, but fear tasted worse. And having new, fragile shoots of hope shattered, that was the worst. Tinkerbell didn't understand the agony of that, but Regina did, and it was more than she was willing to risk.

So Regina averted her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."

But Tinkerbell was unrelenting. "Are you sure?"

The actual doubt in her voice made Regina want to scream. Why was Tinkerbell acting so condescending with her? The fairy laid a hand on Regina's shoulder. Regina fought back a flinch. In the end, it wasn't a bad thing - maybe one day she'd learn to fully appreciate such gestures without recoiling in consequence of her unhealthy past relationships.

"Because it seems to me that's just what you need," Tinkerbell went on, "to talk to a friend."

Regina wasn't sure what the word had stirred in her. Tinkerbell had called her a friend once before, just before Regina had shattered any friendly sentiment the fairy might have harboured for her by pushing her away - even friendship had seemed unattainable and threatening at the time. How about now? Was she seriously going to throw this away, too? Had she not learnt anything? She chanced a glance at the fairy, who gave her an encouraging, though somewhat anxious half-smile. No, she didn't want to hurt her the way she had striven to back then. But the bonding topic wasn't to her liking at all.

"There's a Witch breathing down our necks," Regina mustered, "and you want to gossip about boys?"

"Don't try to deflect." Damn, Tinkerbell seemed to see right through her this time. Well, she wasn't stupid. "The Witch is not here, we have no clues to work with, and it's just a few minutes anyway."

"This is no time for romance," Regina said feebly, knowing she was coming up short but playing for time.

"Amongst all the chaos there is always room for love."

"Love?" Regina bristled. This was yet another buzzword that made her back off in alarm. "There's nothing between us, and there won't be. We're just - friends." Were they, though? Well, she had no better word for it, they were most certainly not enemies and they'd worked themselves past mere acquaintances, too. For what little she knew of friendship, Robin had indeed been a friend to her - for as long as she'd let him, anyway.

Tinkerbell pulled back a little and surveyed her. Regina shrunk back uncomfortably under her searching eyes.

"But you have feelings for each other," Tinkerbell said slowly.

"How can you possibly be so sure?"

"I'm not blind, Regina. I saw the way the two of you look at one another."

"You did?" How did they look at one another? And when? _Oh, just all the time_, a mocking voice peeped inside her head. It was true. She had been stealing glances at him, and sometimes - often - she'd catch him doing the same. "It doesn't matter." But it did, of course it did. The more she insisted it didn't the more it mattered. Her stomach tightened. Suddenly, she was that girl from years ago again, standing in front of the tavern the fairy had pointed out as the location of her soulmate. "I can't deal with this," she blurted in a strained voice. "I just can't."

Tinkerbell squeezed her shoulder. "Why don't you at least try?"

"What if it doesn't work?" She meant it, she knew straight away. _What if it doesn't work_ had effectively joined her biggest worry of _what if she finds they have something and loses it again_.

"What if it does?"

Regina scoffed, but her eyes burned. "What are the odds of that?" Things didn't exactly have a way of working out that well for her - especially not in the area of relationships of any kind.

"You'll never know if you don't even try. He seems like a good guy to me."

_Oh, you have no idea_.

"Is there anything wrong with him I don't know about? An extra toe? Or some vital part missing?"

Tinkerbell's attempt to make light of the tense atmosphere was a nice touch, but it wasn't enough.

"No." Regina stared at her hands.

Robin did seem like a good guy. He was kind and loyal and had a strong moral code, yet he wasn't judgemental and didn't moralise. He was brave and he had honour. He was neither a wolf nor a sheep, but something in between, or a bit of both - he didn't fit into Regina's simplistic model of the world. Indeed, he'd successfully uprooted what remained of a view she'd already come to suspect was faulty. He was a constant challenge to her sharp tongue, matching her taunts with clever comebacks of his own. He respected her boundaries, even when it clearly didn't suit him.

So how was it possible that he'd managed to ever so gently push those boundaries out of the way an inch at a time? He'd even undermined some of the unfavourable notions she'd nurtured about herself - or he'd tried to. No, there was nothing wrong with Robin Hood.

"Not with him," she whispered.

"Regina, you need to give yourself a chance at happiness." The fairy paused and inclined her head. "You deserve it."

"Do I?"

"Yes." Tink's answer was sincere, she could see that - the fairy had always been an open book, and she wasn't playing at anything this time either. Regina's eyes stung as Tinkerbell smiled at her. "You do."


	18. Pieces of the Puzzle

_First of all, thanks for the lovely feedback on last chapter. Your interest in this story keeps me writing even when life interferes hard, like it has done these days. This chapter answers some long-standing questions and opens some new ones to keep you on your toes. On the bright side, this is almost purely OQ interaction. Enjoy!_

* * *

_Knock-knock-knock_, the mirror went under his knuckles. Nothing happened. No enchanted face appeared in it, no strangely enhanced image of Robin's own, and certainly no mysterious voice issued from its depths.

Robin sighed. Roland had a vivid imagination. It could easily be that Regina would come - if she came at all, that is - and confirm that the mirror was nothing more than just a common looking glass. What else could it be anyway?

Robin had, of course, heard about the Queen's obsession with mirrors, as the people would believe, as well as the many stories of what atrocious uses she'd been putting them to, spying being the least of them. They all sounded exaggerated, especially since he hadn't seen Regina use a mirror ever since they met. There'd been the broken, shattered one in the corridor of her palace, but even then she hadn't seemed too distraught by the sight.

The door opened and Roland rushed through it, chattering excitedly to a half-smiling Regina he was leading by the hand. Robin's lips twitched at the sight. She was great with him and the boy adored her. The occasional shadow of pain that crossed her face when she was with Roland never failed to tug at his heart. Yet despite the fact that his son brought forth bittersweet memories of her own more than anything else did, Regina hadn't pushed Roland away. Robin felt quite an irrational, highly inappropriate sting of envy, and an immediate onset of shame at it.

"Roland tells me there's a genie in the mirror." Her voice woke him from the momentary wanderings of his mind: the memory of how her hand had felt in his once, before her walls had run so high and thick he barely gained a glimpse inside anymore, let alone passage.

"Yes, I- didn't see anything, though."

"Papa," Roland wagged a finger at him, chiding with a laugh in his voice, "I telled you, the mirror will speak only with Regina."

"You're right, Roland," he grinned, "you really told me that." Robin looked at her with a small shrug. Was this even possible? If so, he would rather like to see it.

"Alright, sweetheart," Regina crouched to his level. "I'll talk to the genie now. Why don't you go and find Little John, and show him those drawings you made?"

"Okay," Roland nodded brightly. Robin grinned - okay was Roland's new favourite word. Roland waved to Robin and hopped out of the room.

Robin's eyes returned to Regina, who had already approached the mirror. He hesitated - would she want to do this in privacy, or was he fine to stay?

"Could Roland have been right?" She'd been eyeing the mirror for a while now, in what he believed was a suspicious manner.

"Easily." Regina ran her fingers across the frame. "Not my mirror, of course, but the enchantment makes it possible to..."

Fascinated, Robin found himself just a step behind her, staring into the silver-coated glass once again, once again seeing nothing but his own reflection and hers. There was something almost unbearable about this doubled image of hers - twice the beauty, twice the ache of being so close to her and yet so far away.

A blue mist swirled in the mirror, and there was nothing like that behind them for the mirror to reflect. Robin took an involuntary step back. Particles of mist floated together and apart again, until eventually they settled in the form of a ghostly face.

Regina and the Mirror stared at each other for a while, each measuring the other.

"If the Witch wants to talk, she'd better come in person rather than sending cowardly messages through my former servant." Regina's voice dripped contempt, and the face in the mirror frowned.

"I may serve the Witch now," it said at long last in a hollow voice, "but this errand is purely my initiative."

"The wish is still in effect," Regina noted after a while. "That's why you can come and see me in spite of being under her control now.

"Correct."

"Do you have information for me?"

"Again, correct."

"Why? You have no love lost for me." The air seemed to grow colder for some reason as the Mirror's frown deepened, and the tension was almost tangible. "Perhaps an unfortunate choice of words." Regina's voice had lost it's sarcastic undertone.

Whatever it was about Regina's former statement that had irked the Mirror, it collected itself fairly soon. It cleared its throat and jeered.

"The Wicked Witch is far more atrocious now than the Evil Queen."

Robin's brow furrowed, and he glared at the Mirror. The Evil Queen? The slyly spoken words had a hollow and unfamiliar ring to them. Nothing Regina had done in the past months warranted the moniker - whereas it had seemed justified in the past, it was out of place today. Everyone should have noted that.

"Word is, you and the Charmings are a team now," the Mirror said, and Robin liked the jibe not a bit.

Regina, however, ignored the tone. "True," she nodded simply.

"You can use all the help you can get."

"Go ahead, then."

The Mirror put on a solemn face, and Robin prepared himself for the worst. Hadn't they had enough bad news for a day? What on earth could it possibly be this time?

"The Witch holds the Dark One's dagger."

"We already know that," Regina said impatiently. "It's why she knows so much about me." She grew quiet for a moment, an absent expression settling on her face. The clouds cleared up somewhat as she turned back to the Mirror. "And from you as well, I expect."

"Yes."

Regina nodded, following an unvoiced trail of thought. At least it seemed to make sense to her - Robin was more clueless than ever.

"So what is this Witch up to?" Robin's attention peaked as Regina cut to the chase. "There's been no sign of her for weeks."

"Her final plan remains hidden to me." Well, that was bad news, wasn't it? The Mirror seemed genuinely worried itself. "It requires various ingredients. The Witch has everything she needs-" the Mirror paused. "From this world."

Regina exhaled. "From this world?"

"Yes," the Mirror said darkly.

"Does she have it?"

The bluish face nodded.

"When will she cast it?"

The Mirror's forehead creased, its eyes darted somewhere Regina and Robin couldn't see, and an agitated look crossed its face.

Before there was time for further questions, the floor shook beneath their feet. Regina hurtled forward, grabbing the rattling mirror and keeping them both upright. Robin was thrown against an armchair facing the window. The sky had darkened in seconds and a great wind howled, sweeping up branches and uprooting trees. The walls seemed to shake and windowpanes rattled. An ear-splitting thunder deafened him momentarily.

Then everything was gone the way it had come, abruptly and without warning. The sky cleared again, branches and tree trunks crashed to the ground, and an eerie quiet settled upon the chamber and the world outside. Not a leaf stirred, not a bird sang.

"What the hell was that?" Robin scrambled back to his feet and turned to Regina. Thankfully, she, too, was unharmed.

She straightened the mirror and smoothed down her dress as if this sort of thing happened every day. But when she turned to him, Robin's stomach dropped at the shadow upon her face and the way she swallowed before responding.

"The Dark Curse."

Robin stared at her. Surely not...surely there was another explanation. His being fought against the fact it yearned to contend with - with no success. It was true - it had to be. He hadn't seen much of the Curse the last time, and perhaps it didn't even act the same when cast on different occasions. It wasn't for him to know, though - if someone did know their way about magic, it was Regina. Her reaction spoke for itself, and Robin didn't need the Mirror's confirmation, but looked at the sinister face anyway when it spoke.

"It hits tomorrow," the Mirror nodded gravely.

The Dark Curse. Robin had escaped it once, but this time it wouldn't be the case. What would it bring upon them? Would he be able to hold on to Roland? Or would he forget he ever had a son? Such a thing didn't seem possible, and yet… Regina's hand went up to her temple and she rubbed a few circles on it. The rising urge to reach out to her while he still could filled him with frustration. She didn't want him to, she'd been very clear about that. Yet his first instinct had been to grab Roland with one hand and Regina with the other and hold on to them as tight as he could in the face of this new, looming threat.

The Mirror fidgeted at some unheard noise and turned left and right, looking around hastily. "I must go."

"Wait," Robin stepped forward. He'd been considering this for far too long already. Maybe the Mirror, being in the Witch's possession, could answer his question. Robin glanced at Regina. Now was his chance to make sure, to clear this up once and for all. "Has this Witch ever mentioned a pair of magical slippers?"

He held his breath.

"She has," the Mirror eyed him curiously, " but she doesn't own them anymore."

Robin let out a long sigh. _Here we go_. About time, too, about time that he finally knew for certain. Of course the Witch didn't own the slippers anymore - Robin Hood knew more about their location that the Witch did. It seemed there was at least one advantage they had over their foe after all. But was it too late now?

The room came back to focus around him once Regina spoke hastily.

"Anything at all about her parentage?"

Robin glanced at her then back at the mirror. Of course Regina wanted to know if the allegations made by the Witch were true or not. If the Witch was indeed her sister, it would most likely be yet another bitter pill for her to swallow, and for her sake, Robin caught himself wishing it weren't true. Yet the information was of importance for a different reason as well, one Regina didn't knw yet, and this required the exact opposite outcome. Which would it be?

The Mirror raised an eyebrow. "She and the Dark One have discussed at length her being your half-sister. I didn't think it was important, considering the other news."

"No," Regina frowned. "It's not."

The face disappeared in a swirl of blue smoke, and the usual smooth surface of the mirror took its place once again.

Regina crossed the room and stopped by the window, looking out over the vast landscape stretching before them.

His spirits should be soaring now, for he had finally found an answer to a riddle posed to him decades ago, before the first Dark Curse had even been cast. Instead, all he could think of was her, the forced calm with which she had accepted the news, the clear intent to face up to it without a sign of weakness. Once again, as several times before, he felt a mighty urge to offer comfort - but, as before, it wasn't welcome. So Robin watched Regina's motionless, statuesque figure etched against the setting sun - the last sunset he was to see in this land, and quite possibly the last of Regina.

* * *

Regina slammed her fist against the stone wall, but halfway through it she lost the momentum. Life seemed to be draining out of her slowly. The Witch was pocketing a win, and the fact that for her it clearly was just a temporary one, just one leg in a longer race, was doing nothing to make Regina feel any better about it. There was nothing anyone could do to stop the Curse once it had been cast. All they could do was wait for it to strike - and then start from ground zero again.

The poise, controlled manner in which she'd managed to deliver the bad news hadn't done much to mitigate the effect on the others. Tears had welled up in Snow's eyes, and Regina's collectedness had all but gone at that moment, knowing well enough that Snow was remembering another time the Curse had snatched her away from her home, her husband, and her newborn child. _I'm sorry_, she found herself mouthing, and Snow just closed her eyes as the room erupted with exclamations, questions and curses.

Charming had stubbornly held on to the one hope that the Witch was bluffing and there wasn't a curse at all, or why would she let the mirror reveal her plans at the last minute? Until Regina told him, hating her own emotionless voice, that it was precisely the fact that her plan was irreversible that made the Witch so negligent of the revelation. She was probably even enjoying tormenting them with the knowledge of the impending end - and their helplessness in the face of it. Oh, how Regina hated her for that only!

Then voices had demanded Regina tell them where they'd be whisked away this time and what would happen to their memories - as if Regina had a way of knowing when she wasn't the one to have cast the wretched Curse this time around. There would be memory loss for certain - Regina was guessing the past year at the very least would be gone, so that the Witch could erase even what little progress they'd made in uncovering her plans.

Regina's fist landed on the hard stone again. Without even the memory of their foe, they'd be completely at her mercy.

What did the Witch want? What realm could possibly hold the key to her ultimate plan? Without a portal, even if they knew, it would be next to impossible to prevent it. But they didn't know, they still had no clue, and nothing the Mirror had told her was of any help. She should have asked about that instead of the stupid question about familial ties. No. The Mirror didn't know any more than they did, even the Witch wasn't stupid enough to have revealed so much.

_My sister_. Could it be true? It seemed so. There had been a time Regina would have given anything for a sibling, someone to share all the curiosities of her childhood with - a childhood by no means simple with a mother like Cora. A sister would have understood the things Regina would never have been able to share even with a friend, had she had one. In the end, it all came back to Cora - the mother who'd never bothered informing Regina that she had a sister at all. Why?

Regina huffed angrily and knocked a pile of books from the table in a wide gesture. It didn't matter why. Clearly, Cora'd had a past, and not one she wanted revealed. Perhaps that was clever. Regina's past, on the other hand, had been sold to Zelena by the Dark One and the Mirror. Every staged scene from her past, every reference, it all made sense now: the villages, the unicorn, the vipers. Zelena had all the advantages, and she'd have even more once Regina's memory was wiped clear by the Curse. There was nothing Regina could do but wait and hope for the best - and she'd never been particularly patient or optimistic to begin with.

As the afternoon dragged on, people came and went, peering into the room, even saying a few words now and again, then leaving after receiving no response. Snow didn't talk to Regina, but left her lunch and a tentative hand on her shoulder for a moment that brought an onslaught of remorse Regina didn't know what to do with. Tink floated in through the window but the fairy wasn't her cheerful self and left the same way again soon. Once, the door creaked open and she thought she spied Roland's dark eyes peering in before a hand pulled him back into the corridor and closed the door again.

Regina sighed. Well, there was no reason Robin would want to check on her - or even do anything but enjoy his son while he still could. Regina hoped against hope that father and son would wind up together wherever this Curse was taking them. As to her, she had nothing to expect from a man she'd decided to have as little to do with as possible.

_I ran again._

Regina was prodding the contents of her plate dispassionately when there was a knock on the door. She ignored it. There was nothing special about this one compared to the few others she's d hear in the past hour.

After two more rounds, Regina raised her head form the plate irritably, but not without a hint of curiosity. People would either leave or just come in without invitation, but whoever this was, they were neither leaving nor entering without eliciting a response first.

"I'm in no mood for company," Regina called.

"M'lady. A word, please."

Regina's heart leapt at his voice. So he had come after all. At the same time, her chest tightened. What did he want? This was a vulnerable time, and she wasn't sure she could handle his presence right now. Tinkerbell's words rang in her ears, and for a brief moment the idea of letting them stand so close - or closer - as that time in the courtyard when Robin held her hand, chased everything else away. Despite her efforts in the past months, she yearned to see him. It might be the last time.

"Come in," she sighed.

* * *

Robin took a deep breath before stepping through the door.

Regina was sitting behind an ornate dressing table, her almost full plate either suggesting lack of enthusiasm about beans or the overall situation. There was something in her eyes he hadn't seen there in ages, a sparkle he'd missed. It was also the first time in months that she was looking back at him directly like this, not averting her eyes the moment hers and his locked for what she felt was too long.

Robin gave himself a mental shake. He needed to focus. This was hard and tricky and he wouldn't be the least bit surprised if it turned nasty. If his suspicion was right, he should have told her ages ago. If it was wrong, he should tell no one of this - but tomorrow it wouldn't make a difference anyway because no one would remember. Despite this, the idea of her last sentiment for him being anger or worse caused him heartache.

Robin glanced at the pile of books scattered everywhere: the table, the bed, the armchair. "Last minute research?"

"Yes." It sounded better than idle despair anyway. She had been turning pages, even though he suspected it was more out of stubbornness than any real hope.

"May I?"

Her gesture said 'go on' where her lips remained sealed, so he pulled a puff to join her at the table covered in bottles, vials, and scrolls of parchment.

Then, focus or not, anticipation or not, he found himself simply staring at her, drinking in her face after such a long time: her shiny raven hair with not a strand out of place even at a time like this, her eyes bearing his look with a strange mix of hunger and foreboding, her features somewhat strained but no less captivating.

She drew a sharp breath and let it out slowly.

"Is this about…?" Her voice trailed off and a she tilted her head.

Of course she had no idea what this was about.

"The thing I was going to speak about at the council, the one I said I needed to talk to you about later, and what the Mirror told us." It all came back to what he'd been suspecting might be, but had only really started taking a real shape once the magic mirror answered his one burning question.

Regina eyed him with unmasked curiosity.

Then she looked out of the window with pursed lips. He waited because something about her countenance suggested a burning issue waiting to be spoken, yet a reluctance to do so. When she did finally speak, she did so without looking at him.

"All those obstacles she threw in our way - the ones relating to my past?"

Robin remembered all too well the horrors they'd encountered on their quest and how upsetting they'd proven to her. Waiting for confirmation, she glanced at him and he nodded.

"That's how she knew. From Rumple, and from the Mirror."

It made sense now, of course. The Witch must have gained control of Regina's enchanted mirror along with the Dark Palace, and milked it for information much like she had obviously done with the Dark One. Robin's heart went out to Regina. Whatever those re-enactments had been about exactly, he wished she hadn't had to endure the torture. She didn't know it, but there were bits in his past that haunted him, and just the idea of someone dragging them out into light to manipulate him was as revolting as it was mortifying. If only at least the wretched Mirror had held its tongue.

The Mirror. Right. He needed to talk about that.

"Regina," he wrung his hands, "I asked about the slippers for a reason.'

She turned back to him at the words, her body relaxing visibly at the change of topic. "Yes, I was wondering about that."

"I was entrusted with stealing such a pair once." There. It was out. Finally.

Regina arched an eyebrow. "From this Witch? By whom?"

"Not from the Witch, no." An image resurfaced in his mind, sharp and clear despite the time elapsed: a man, dandy and fairly well-dressed with a hat that rendered him conspicuous amongst many. "From a man referred to as a world-hopper."

"Jefferson?" A flicker of recognition turned her surprise into a frown. Regina's face gained a far-away look.

Did she know this peddler? It seemed so. Maybe he shouldn't really be surprised, what with Regina's knowledge of magic.

"I- I've heard them referenced." The memory seemed jarring for some reason, and Regina fiddled with the silver spoon. "When I was Rumple's apprentice." Rumplestiltskin again. No wonder Regina was tense once more. "Jefferson said he couldn't get them because they'd been removed to another realm."

"I don't know what happened to them after I stole them. But the commission was extraordinary." Even the fact that he'd worked on commission was extraordinary. Her look was challenging him to elaborate, so he tried to explain. "It wasn't the kind of job I'd usually have taken. For one, it involved a magical item - I don't dabble in magic if I can help it." He hoped to heavens he'd managed for it not to come across as injuring or judgemental. "For another thing, it didn't serve the poor." In all honesty, he hadn't even known whom it would serve - he still didn't.

Regina pinned him with a look of increased curiosity.

"Why did you take it?"

"Because of this." Robin pulled out a sheet of yellowed parchment from a hidden pocket in his boot. It had been there for years, but he'd been taking good care of it, and it was barely frayed from the multiple rereadings he'd done through the years. "This was my payment, as well as my hiring letter. I think you'll understand when you read it."

A slight quiver of his otherwise always so steady fingers betrayed his rising anxiety, and Regina reached for the parchment with a wary look. Robin wished he could just wipe it away - he hated to be the one causing it, even if he was only the bearer of the news rather than the cause.

Regina unfolded the letter and began to read, and by the minute changes in her face, the look in her widening eyes, he could follow her progress almost to the word.

_You whom they call the Prince of Thieves, to you I entrust a delicate task of crucial importance._

_A powerful sorceress is rising to one day become a threat to us all. The green-eyed monster shall transcend the boundaries of magic to swallow lives as if they'd never existed. The sorceress can be vanquished, but if by the day of her most horrid deed no one should succeed, a failsafe must be provided._

_You, Prince of Thieves, must obtain for me her own pair of slippers imbued with the magic to travel between realms. Heed my call now, for the Dark One has already set his sights on them. Find the man known as the world-hopper and remove the slippers. Leave them in the trunk of an ancient, magical tree you've passed many times in the heart of the forest. My enchantment shall lend them what power is needed, and they shall be moved to a place from which only the sorceress' own blood can retrieve them when the time comes._

_Dark and light she shall be, hard and soft, the bearer of a heart most resilient._

_Tarry not, Prince of Thieves, for time is of the essence._

_G._

Regina exhaled softly as her finger rested upon the ornate letter G. It was a moment before she raised her head from the yellowed parchment, and Robin scrutinised her face. It was hard to tell what was going on inside her. The contents of the letter were disturbing beyond doubt, but she liked to keep a composed expression when she was upset. So Robin bore into her eyes, for they were where Regina's emotional turmoil so often reflected.

Regina seemed to understand what he was doing though, and collected herself within seconds, gesturing at the letter. "And this…made you do it? Steal the slippers?"

Her lips were pursed, though whether it was in mockery, suspicion, or annoyance, he wasn't sure. Either way, all of those sentiments were ones he'd experienced when he'd first read the ominous words.

"It sounded crazy. I thought it was a trick at first, but the letter…" Robin paused as the memory came back to him, so vivid he heard the whispered words echo off the walls. "It started reading itself."

"What?"

"I heard a whisper. The letter was reading itself, every day." For three nights Robin hadn't been able to sleep a wink, while everyone around him was happily snoring away, never hearing the quiet, urgent voice that seemed to be reserved for him alone. "After the third day, I decided to do it. I left the slippers in the tree as instructed and stayed to spy from a bush."

"What happened?" Regina seemed intrigued despite herself.

The smell of rain and crushed elderberry flowers invaded his nostrils much like that night. "I saw a white shadow, a glowing haze of sorts, and then she disappeared - along with the slippers." Curiosity had spurred him towards the trunk that night to take a closer look. "There was another note in their place." Regina eyed him expectantly. Robin shrugged with an apologetic half-smile. "It just said _'Look hard, and doubt all you see_.'"

The note wasn't very informative, but it was important nonetheless - it was part of the reason he'd been so cautious about revealing this story. Would Regina understand? Whether she was mad with him or not shouldn't probably be his first concern in the face of the grave situation, but he couldn't help it - he cared a whole lot.

Regina scoffed. "Not very encouraging after already suspecting the author of the letter of fraud. I gather you haven't seen her or the slippers ever since?"

He shook his head. Then he turned to her with a question he'd been asking himself for all those years. "Do you think it's true?"

A desperate look settled in her eyes for a moment. "I don't know," she sighed. "But we have nothing else." Her look gained an intensity that almost threatened to burn holes in him, and a hardness crept into her features. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

There was hurt and there was disappointment in her voice, and Robin froze. He'd anticipated anger but not sadness, and he would have given everything now to stand against a raging wrath instead of the momentary look of dejection.

Her own reaction seemed to startle her, and she quickly rearranged her face into a stony expression. "We could have been looking for these slippers for months."

Robin nodded - this had been his biggest issue. Should he have stepped up months ago with this instead of just this morning? Could the Witch have been stopped then, and was it because of him the Dark Curse had even been enacted now?

The one thing he felt remotely good about was that he'd chosen to talk to Regina privately rather than bringing it up at the council first. This was personal for her, especially now that Zelena had been revealed to be her relative. Regina wasn't letting it on, sure, maybe not even to herself, but the harder she was working to keep her face expressionless, the larger he suspected the storm raging inside her had to be.

"I didn't know," he admitted finally. He'd been racked with doubts for years now, for much longer than Regina knew. "I had theories, but if I'd been wrong, it could have been a disaster. The last message sounded like a warning." Robin hesitated - what he was about to say next had been haunting him for these past few months, and he was both burning to confess and dreading it at the same time. "I really did make a mistake first." Regina's eyes narrowed in an unspoken question. "There was a time years ago when I thought the menace the letter was referring to was…" Robin hesitated. He hated himself for this now and he was ashamed, even though he was well aware his suspicion had made sense back then.

A bitter smile spread on Regina's face.

"Me," she finished for him.

"I was wrong, obviously. I'm sorry."

It was only after the Witch had started wreaking havoc in the Enchanted Forest that Robin began to suspect she could be the true target of his past theft. Even after he'd teamed up with Regina he'd wondered if he'd perhaps chosen the wrong sorceress to join forces with - but Roland's life had been at stake, and even if he had been right all along and the Evil Queen was the true threat, Roland's life was too precious for him to hazard with. His conscience had been torn between the greater good and his son, and he'd chosen Roland. He would always choose Roland. Thankfully, his selfish decision had eventually brought him to see the fault of his earlier suspicions. He'd chosen the right side, and he'd seen that fairly early on aftrwards. But he'd taken a long time to make sure the Witch was indeed the sorceress from the letter - too long a time, he now knew.

"I wish I'd told you sooner, Regina."

She looked at him closely and her features softened.

"Never mind that now."

Robin was supposed to feel relieved - she wasn't lashing out at him in a wild, destructive rage. She didn't even seem mad at him. This woman had been trying so hard to distance herself from the Evil Queen, even she was giving herself far too little credit for it - and so many others were quick to forget this at times. If only his wretched confession hadn't reminded her of all this. Instead of relief, his heart was overrunning with affection.

Robin reached out and brought his hand next to hers on the table. Their fingers were barely touching, yet his skin tingled. "Maybe there's still time to find them." Any moment now, she'd pull back, like she'd been doing ever since their arrival to the palace. "Before the Curse hits."

Regina's look rested on their joined fingers. For a good while, she didn't move at all, didn't seem to blink.

"No." At long last, she pulled her hand from his touch, brushing his fingers with hers on the way - slowly, agonisingly, but not without a certain sweetness that turned bitter as the contact ended. "If the letter tells the truth, the slippers can only be located before her final deed." She paused and took a deep breath. "It isn't time yet."

Robin's eyes wandered from the letter in her hand to her face. Was she talking about the letter only, or-?

She held his gaze for a moment, then looked out of the window. Her eyes gained a faraway look, as if in her mind she was transcending realms to some unknown place.

"We need to look for the slippers wherever the Curse sends us from here."

"But we won't remember any of this." Not remembering Regina filled Robin with an almost unbearable sense of loss. Forgetting her seemed impossible, and yet they both knew it was going to happen.

Regina looked him in the eyes and smiled that smile that only made sadness so much more daunting.

"Exactly."

* * *

_Here we go, then - the Dark Curse is on its way, and after next chapter, the story will be moving to Storybrooke. I'm quite curious as to how this slippers plot works for you so far, so if you feel like sharing your first impressions (or sentiments about anything else in this story as well), I'll be glad to hear from you. :)_


End file.
